Draco/Hermione- Foolish- Chapter 30
Title: Foolish
Author: blacksouledbutterfly (me)
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Draco/Hermione
Summary: I always knew you would be the one to make me cry....
30- Hermione
Somehow I always knew as long as any people who did not want peace lived there would be no peace in the wizarding world. I suppose I knew that from the time the war first started, maybe sooner, but I forgot. Maybe Danica brought me a new hope for the future. Maybe I was just a fool. Either way I hoped that peace would come. I hoped day after day always in vain. Always.
Draco doesn't understand. For him there has never been a time of peace. If he wasn't in trouble at school he was in trouble at home. His father in particular knew nothing about equality or of kindness.
More than once he had come to me after having spoken to his father, broken down inside a little bit. He would cry, the great Draco Malfoy, would cry and I would comfort him. I never knew how to comfort him of course. How could I? I didn’t know what he was feeling. I couldn't. My life was nowhere near as harsh as his was. I was merely a muggle in a wizarding world. He was, in his father's eyes, a fool who didn’t know his place.
Draco knew only violence for so long. I think, looking back now, that's what he was so cruel to Ron, Harry and I. Maybe that was all he knew. Could a child really be raised with nothing but harsh words and violence and not be cruel in return? Perhaps he needed to let go of that anger, of that frustration and being cruel to us was his way to do that. Maybe it was the only way he could survive the long days. Maybe I will never know.
He sits in front of me and I can tell he is contemplating murdering his father. And why not? He already thought he killed his father, and even if he hated his father, that must have weighted on his mind. How could it not? Wouldn't anyone feel guilty after 'killing' their father, regardless of what kind of a man their father was?
I have to admit I wanted the man dead too and not just because of him taking Danica. He was a horrible man and despite my hatred for killing, his death would be a comforting thought. I would sleep better knowing he could never hurt another person, but I suppose, as long as there was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, then there would be people just like Lucius. Just as evil, maniacal, and murderous. They would crawl out of the woodworks like the vermin they are and would continues to make everyone else's lives miserable. But still, why couldn't he have died all those years ago? Why did he have to live?
"Bloody hell!"
Draco snaps me out of my thoughts. He has thrown a glass across the room. It shatters into pieces, shards skidding across the hardwood floors.
Narcissa sighs from her spot next to me. "Honestly, Draco, I understand your frustration. Really, I do. However, taking it out on the glasses will not help matters. All it will do is make more work for the house elves."
"How can you be so calm?" he booms. "Your only grandchild is in the hands of a madman and you sit there like nothing’s wrong!"
"Thank you for that, Draco, but I am well aware of the situation. Now, would you please refrain from screaming at me? I don't appreciate that tone of voice." She pushes some of her hair off of her face. "I know you think I am being too calm about this, but hysterics and outbursts will not help the situation. I understand you want your child back. I would feel the same under the circumstances. However, what do you think breaking things will do? It won't make your daughter appear, or reveal to us where your father is, will it?"
"We could always do a tracking spell, right? Or a locator spell, couldn't we?"
"No." My voice surprises even myself. It is hoarse and cracks. I try clearing my throat, but it only hurts.
"Here." Narcissa is holding a teacup out to me. "It's cold, but it may help."
I gratefully take the cup from her delicate hands, and lift it to my lips. The liquid stings my sore throat, but at least when I try to talk again I sound more normal. "Your father will have insured that those won't work. I think...we can’t go looking for her."
"First smart thing that the mudblood has ever said."
Draco scowls in Pansy's direction, and I have to admit, I was really beginning to consider cutting her annoying tongue out of her head.
"Remind me, Mother, why we're keeping her here."
"Because, Draco, we have to keep her in our sights so she doesn’t go and talk to your father and that she doesn't do something that would set us back."
"Set us back! Set us back from what! It's not like we’re out looking for her! We're sitting on our arses like a bunch of gits, doing nothing!"
"Your father has a plan, Draco," I say.
"Hermione, I know! He plans to kill her."
"No, Draco. It that was his only plan than he would have done it already." I reach out and take his hand into mine. "I know you're upset. Imagine how I feel. I'm her mother. That's my little girl. I carried her, I felt her grow inside of me, I felt her kick, gave birth to her, saw her first steps, heard her first words. I have had this deep connection to her since before she was born. Your mother would be able to tell you. For a mother their child is their life. They instantly love them, and when that child is in dance it's as though some part of them is dying. Draco, I want her back! But we can't just go off and do something stupid. Your father has a plan. I am sure of this. And he is too vain not to tell us what it is. He will get in contact with us. I am sure of it. Then we act."
"But...what do we do until then?"
I bite my lip. "Pray. Just pray she's going to be okay. That's all we can do."
Somehow that answer doesn't seem like enough to me either.
Author: blacksouledbutterfly (me)
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Draco/Hermione
Summary: I always knew you would be the one to make me cry....
30- Hermione
Somehow I always knew as long as any people who did not want peace lived there would be no peace in the wizarding world. I suppose I knew that from the time the war first started, maybe sooner, but I forgot. Maybe Danica brought me a new hope for the future. Maybe I was just a fool. Either way I hoped that peace would come. I hoped day after day always in vain. Always.
Draco doesn't understand. For him there has never been a time of peace. If he wasn't in trouble at school he was in trouble at home. His father in particular knew nothing about equality or of kindness.
More than once he had come to me after having spoken to his father, broken down inside a little bit. He would cry, the great Draco Malfoy, would cry and I would comfort him. I never knew how to comfort him of course. How could I? I didn’t know what he was feeling. I couldn't. My life was nowhere near as harsh as his was. I was merely a muggle in a wizarding world. He was, in his father's eyes, a fool who didn’t know his place.
Draco knew only violence for so long. I think, looking back now, that's what he was so cruel to Ron, Harry and I. Maybe that was all he knew. Could a child really be raised with nothing but harsh words and violence and not be cruel in return? Perhaps he needed to let go of that anger, of that frustration and being cruel to us was his way to do that. Maybe it was the only way he could survive the long days. Maybe I will never know.
He sits in front of me and I can tell he is contemplating murdering his father. And why not? He already thought he killed his father, and even if he hated his father, that must have weighted on his mind. How could it not? Wouldn't anyone feel guilty after 'killing' their father, regardless of what kind of a man their father was?
I have to admit I wanted the man dead too and not just because of him taking Danica. He was a horrible man and despite my hatred for killing, his death would be a comforting thought. I would sleep better knowing he could never hurt another person, but I suppose, as long as there was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, then there would be people just like Lucius. Just as evil, maniacal, and murderous. They would crawl out of the woodworks like the vermin they are and would continues to make everyone else's lives miserable. But still, why couldn't he have died all those years ago? Why did he have to live?
"Bloody hell!"
Draco snaps me out of my thoughts. He has thrown a glass across the room. It shatters into pieces, shards skidding across the hardwood floors.
Narcissa sighs from her spot next to me. "Honestly, Draco, I understand your frustration. Really, I do. However, taking it out on the glasses will not help matters. All it will do is make more work for the house elves."
"How can you be so calm?" he booms. "Your only grandchild is in the hands of a madman and you sit there like nothing’s wrong!"
"Thank you for that, Draco, but I am well aware of the situation. Now, would you please refrain from screaming at me? I don't appreciate that tone of voice." She pushes some of her hair off of her face. "I know you think I am being too calm about this, but hysterics and outbursts will not help the situation. I understand you want your child back. I would feel the same under the circumstances. However, what do you think breaking things will do? It won't make your daughter appear, or reveal to us where your father is, will it?"
"We could always do a tracking spell, right? Or a locator spell, couldn't we?"
"No." My voice surprises even myself. It is hoarse and cracks. I try clearing my throat, but it only hurts.
"Here." Narcissa is holding a teacup out to me. "It's cold, but it may help."
I gratefully take the cup from her delicate hands, and lift it to my lips. The liquid stings my sore throat, but at least when I try to talk again I sound more normal. "Your father will have insured that those won't work. I think...we can’t go looking for her."
"First smart thing that the mudblood has ever said."
Draco scowls in Pansy's direction, and I have to admit, I was really beginning to consider cutting her annoying tongue out of her head.
"Remind me, Mother, why we're keeping her here."
"Because, Draco, we have to keep her in our sights so she doesn’t go and talk to your father and that she doesn't do something that would set us back."
"Set us back! Set us back from what! It's not like we’re out looking for her! We're sitting on our arses like a bunch of gits, doing nothing!"
"Your father has a plan, Draco," I say.
"Hermione, I know! He plans to kill her."
"No, Draco. It that was his only plan than he would have done it already." I reach out and take his hand into mine. "I know you're upset. Imagine how I feel. I'm her mother. That's my little girl. I carried her, I felt her grow inside of me, I felt her kick, gave birth to her, saw her first steps, heard her first words. I have had this deep connection to her since before she was born. Your mother would be able to tell you. For a mother their child is their life. They instantly love them, and when that child is in dance it's as though some part of them is dying. Draco, I want her back! But we can't just go off and do something stupid. Your father has a plan. I am sure of this. And he is too vain not to tell us what it is. He will get in contact with us. I am sure of it. Then we act."
"But...what do we do until then?"
I bite my lip. "Pray. Just pray she's going to be okay. That's all we can do."
Somehow that answer doesn't seem like enough to me either.