fanfiction | harry potter : repercussions - 3. beyond help
title: repercussions
snippet: beyond help
genre: angst ;; comfort
character(s): hermione ;; draco
word count: 673
rating: g
‘I’m really worried about him.’
‘Is he no better?’
‘No! If anything, he seems … even more numb.’
‘Oh.’
A pause.
‘Is Ron not with him then?’
‘No, he’s not at the Burrow. He’s at -‘ she hesitates. ‘Grimmauld Place.’
‘Surely that can’t be good for him. There’s only Kreacher there.’
‘I know, I know. But he refuses to move away.’
‘Does he still go to that dingy old coffee shop?’
‘Yeah. But I don’t think he’s going to go for much longer, the snow’s coming.’
‘He probably won’t even notice.’
Their eyes sadden and their voices become weaker as they travel further away.
- - -
‘Where’s Potter?’
‘Why do you want to know?’ Her tone isn’t cross or defensive, just curious.
He shrugs. He doesn’t know either.
‘Just, after the …’ He pauses, but she nods, understanding what he can’t say. ‘I would’ve thought that he would be on the front page of the Prophet and every other magazine and newspaper in existence. But he’s not. Or not for being ‘The Boy Who Lived Twice Becomes Auror’ or other stupid news.’
She nods, biting the edge of her lip as she considers what to reply to his statement. To say that they’d never been on good terms would have been an understatement - for the majority of her school career, he’d mocked her for her ancestry, for her hair, her teeth, her bookwormish tendencies, the list went on. But for the past term, he had done nothing except put his head down and work and work.
Her eyes sadden and she shakes her head.
‘I don’t know, Malfoy. I don’t know where he is?’
He frowns. He knows she’s lying, and he tells her so.
‘I’ve heard your conversations with Longbottom and Lovegood. I know that you know perfectly well where he is.’
The edge of her mouth quirk into an enigmatic smile.
‘I know you did.’
‘So why don’t you just tell me?’
‘I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where his mind is, where his heart is, where his soul is anymore. Oh, I know where he is physically, he’s probably sitting somewhere in London, watching the cars go by, watching the days go by, hiding away from reporters, from everyone. But I don’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. I can’t predict him, I don’t know what he might do. I know what he does do. But I don’t know! I don’t know anything. He’s empty. He was reckless before. He tore down walls, burnt holes into the ground, Splinched his foot, nearly cursed me into a coma. But I knew that he was angry! He was angry, so, so angry! We could predict what he would do. And it was physical damage we could fix. But now… Now … He’s just, empty. He’s worse than George was. He sits and sits, and watches. But he doesn’t. I can tell he’s not seeing, he’s not hearing, he’s not being. He’s broken and empty. He’s empty, Draco. He’s nothing. And I can’t - can’t - can’t help him. We can’t help him. Ron can’t help him, Mrs Weasley can’t, Neville can’t. We all can’t… Draco… I don’t kn- I can’t do anything…’
Tears are flowing out of her eyes, winding a pathway down her cheeks, as she stares at him helplessly. And he can’t do anything. He stands, shock still.
And suddenly, his arms are around her, in an unfamiliar but not entirely uncomfortable hug. It’s the first hug he’s ever willingly given, and he doesn’t know why. But it feels … right. She buries her head into his shoulder as he feels the wetness of her tears soak into his sweater. He frowns - it’s his best jumper - but doesn’t move away.
They stand with his arms around her, and minutes tick by. In the distance, he hears the bell ring and the rising chatter as the students start to make their way to lunch. And yet they stand together, unmoving. Because that’s the only help he can give, when Granger can’t.
snippet: beyond help
genre: angst ;; comfort
character(s): hermione ;; draco
word count: 673
rating: g
‘I’m really worried about him.’
‘Is he no better?’
‘No! If anything, he seems … even more numb.’
‘Oh.’
A pause.
‘Is Ron not with him then?’
‘No, he’s not at the Burrow. He’s at -‘ she hesitates. ‘Grimmauld Place.’
‘Surely that can’t be good for him. There’s only Kreacher there.’
‘I know, I know. But he refuses to move away.’
‘Does he still go to that dingy old coffee shop?’
‘Yeah. But I don’t think he’s going to go for much longer, the snow’s coming.’
‘He probably won’t even notice.’
Their eyes sadden and their voices become weaker as they travel further away.
- - -
‘Where’s Potter?’
‘Why do you want to know?’ Her tone isn’t cross or defensive, just curious.
He shrugs. He doesn’t know either.
‘Just, after the …’ He pauses, but she nods, understanding what he can’t say. ‘I would’ve thought that he would be on the front page of the Prophet and every other magazine and newspaper in existence. But he’s not. Or not for being ‘The Boy Who Lived Twice Becomes Auror’ or other stupid news.’
She nods, biting the edge of her lip as she considers what to reply to his statement. To say that they’d never been on good terms would have been an understatement - for the majority of her school career, he’d mocked her for her ancestry, for her hair, her teeth, her bookwormish tendencies, the list went on. But for the past term, he had done nothing except put his head down and work and work.
Her eyes sadden and she shakes her head.
‘I don’t know, Malfoy. I don’t know where he is?’
He frowns. He knows she’s lying, and he tells her so.
‘I’ve heard your conversations with Longbottom and Lovegood. I know that you know perfectly well where he is.’
The edge of her mouth quirk into an enigmatic smile.
‘I know you did.’
‘So why don’t you just tell me?’
‘I don’t know where he is. I don’t know where his mind is, where his heart is, where his soul is anymore. Oh, I know where he is physically, he’s probably sitting somewhere in London, watching the cars go by, watching the days go by, hiding away from reporters, from everyone. But I don’t know what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. I can’t predict him, I don’t know what he might do. I know what he does do. But I don’t know! I don’t know anything. He’s empty. He was reckless before. He tore down walls, burnt holes into the ground, Splinched his foot, nearly cursed me into a coma. But I knew that he was angry! He was angry, so, so angry! We could predict what he would do. And it was physical damage we could fix. But now… Now … He’s just, empty. He’s worse than George was. He sits and sits, and watches. But he doesn’t. I can tell he’s not seeing, he’s not hearing, he’s not being. He’s broken and empty. He’s empty, Draco. He’s nothing. And I can’t - can’t - can’t help him. We can’t help him. Ron can’t help him, Mrs Weasley can’t, Neville can’t. We all can’t… Draco… I don’t kn- I can’t do anything…’
Tears are flowing out of her eyes, winding a pathway down her cheeks, as she stares at him helplessly. And he can’t do anything. He stands, shock still.
And suddenly, his arms are around her, in an unfamiliar but not entirely uncomfortable hug. It’s the first hug he’s ever willingly given, and he doesn’t know why. But it feels … right. She buries her head into his shoulder as he feels the wetness of her tears soak into his sweater. He frowns - it’s his best jumper - but doesn’t move away.
They stand with his arms around her, and minutes tick by. In the distance, he hears the bell ring and the rising chatter as the students start to make their way to lunch. And yet they stand together, unmoving. Because that’s the only help he can give, when Granger can’t.