Okay,
I wrote this in 2 hours time, listening to Korean rap. I like it as a story,
and I hope you
do
too. Have patience if you wanna read about Draco, he appears a few paragraphs
from now.
Cold
Comforts
by
LuciusMCassius
Yari
He
was dead. That was all that she cared about, and she couldn’t stand it.
Hermione ran to forget
everything.
From her meeting him, to the small white letter brought in by the only
black owl the
school
had. Her feet were bare, and she could feel the cool grass pressing into
her skin as she ran.
The
air was wet, and her thin night robes pressed against her skin uncomfortably.
She didn’t care.
She
just wanted to get away.
He
had died in an accident, but she knew better. He had been assassinated.
The mangled body in
the
newspapers showed the international star’s eyes, wide with fear, his mouth
parted in an everlasting
scream.
The Ministry hadn’t even had the decency to reward him with a Merlin’s
Order. Because
it
was an accident. And accidents weren’t rewarded. The cowardly Cornelius
Fudge was too ignorant
to
realize that the Death Eaters had returned, along with their master.
Viktor.
Why did he have to die? He wasn’t even in his prime, ripped from his youth
by the cruel
clutches
of evil. He would never be able to love her. Ever.
She
sobbed and turned towards the lake. Where he had first appeared, where
she had first seen him,
stepping
off the boat, flogged by unwanted followers. Her feet took her closer to
the edges of the
stony
shore. Where he had saved her in the trials. Where he had asked her to
stay with him during the
summer.
And that would never happen again.
Hermione
collapsed, tired from running, at the edge of the shore, letting the soft
waves lap across her
legs.
She wanted him back. Harry and Ron had tried to comfort her, but they hadn’t
succeeded. Ron’s
stuttering
and raised brows had in fact made her feel worse, and Harry had been very
busy, due to
Professor
Snape and his many detentions. Perhaps she would commit suicide. Perhaps
she could join
Viktor.
“No
one would miss you anyway Mudblood.” A voice cut into her thoughts, reading
them to
perfection.
She
snapped her head back, and let out a cry. There under the crook of many
heavy branches
overlaying
the lake, sat Draco Malfoy. His thin pale face sneered coldly at her. Hatred
filled her
breast. The
little beast must have known she would come here.
“You!”
she snarled. “Why are you here?!?! What do you WANT from me?”
“What
would anyone want from a cold, wet, sobbing Mudblood?” he sneered back,
“I decided to
come
here on my own. Get over it.”
Hermione
stared, then exploded. “What more can you do?! What more can you TAKE from
me?!!!
You
killed him! You killed him you-you BASTARD!!”
She
stumbled up, her feet complaining after so much running. She ignored it.
She was in front of
Draco
in five long strides. Her hand collided with his face. His eyes widened
slightly, then narrowed.
“I
did not kill him.” He hissed, deathly quiet, “But if you hit me again,
I swear on my ancestors that
I
will kill you. What do I care about Viktor Krum? What does anyone care?
His memory will fade
like
the seasons; no one will grieve him in a year. His grave will lay abandoned.”
“What?!”
Hermione gasped, pulling away from him.
“That’s
right, Mudblood. Life goes on and all that sentimental shit…do really think
Ron and Harry
care
about him dying? I rather think Ron was happy that he died. Now he can
have the pretty
Mudblood
to himself!”
“Shut
up!” Hermione screamed, her palm swinging at his face again, desperate
to close his dangerous
mouth.
He
caught her hand this time, and twisted it painfully, with strength entirely
unexpected. For being
so
thin, he was strong, stronger than Ron. She shivered involuntarily.
“What
did I say about your itching palm, Mudblood?” he drawled.
Hermione
bit her lip, then sobbed. Her lover was dead, and now she was faced with
embarrassment
by
her greatest enemy, sans Voldemort. Tears began to fall easily from her
eyes.
“Stop
crying!” Draco spat, “Crying means you’re weak, not to mention it’s making
me extremely
agitated.
No one here has time for a crying Mudblood!!”
“How-how
can y-you s-say such things?” Hermione wailed, “Viktor was my friend…h-he
died by
the
hand of Death Eaters!! Of-of course he will be remembered!”
Draco
started to laugh. It was high pitched and cold, entirely unfeeling. He
twisted her arm tighter,
his
lips curled up in a feral grin. She cried out in pain, but ceased sobbing.
“What
do you want to know, Mudblood?” he sneered.
Hermione
turned her face sharply towards his. He looked like a demon; his eyes narrow
glowing slits,
his
skin milky pale, his fangs gleaming white underneath his smile that dripped
loathing and everything
evil.
For once in her life, Hermione no longer hated Draco Malfoy, she feared
him.
“What?”
her voice quivered feebly.
“What
do you want to know about his death, Mudblood? How he died? I should know,
….I was
there.”
His tongue passed thoughtfully over his sharp teeth, then curled back into
his mouth, like a
cat’s.
For a fleeting moment Hermione considered the possibilities that he wasn’t
human.
“You
were there?” she whispered, unbelieving, and yet horrified.
In
a simple, fluid moment Draco released her, and pulled up his long, black
cloak sleeve. There it was.
The
Dark Mark, black against his white skin. His smile was tight now, as though
he were uncomfortable
to
show it to her.
“I
was inducted this summer, I am now held as a full member of Voldemort’s
inner circle. I was there
in
the assassination of Viktor Fidelio Krum. It was…a learning process you
might say.”
Hermione
stepped away from him, horrified. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. She had
always
thought
he would be inducted eventually, but now? While they were still in school?
Voldemort must
really
be short on supporters.
“What
do you want to know?” Malfoy repeated again, pulling his sleeve down jerkily.
“That he died
fighting?
I assure he didn’t. He was wailing like a baby, offering to give anything
to live. If I had asked
him
to forsake you, he would have!”
“Shut
up!” Hermione screamed, “Not everyone is like you! I know Viktor! He was
brave, and kind,
and…”
she stopped, and choked back a sob.
“You
mean you knew Viktor.” Draco sneered, “And only portions of him, if I do
say so myself.”
Hermione
began to cry again. It was so unfair. Why did Draco have to crush everything
she held
closely?
Why was he insulting Viktor so mercilessly?
“Get
over it.” He hissed again, “Get over him, too. Go live a happy life with
Weasly, Mudblood!
Have
dozens of children and live your life hard…The Dark Lord is on the rise
again, and he won’t
let
you Mudbloods live forever.” Draco sneered at her and began to finger his
forearm tenderly.
“Now
get out of my sight!” he snarled fiercely.
Hermione
turned, sobbing, and ran back towards Hogwarts. Her feet were sore and
she limped, but
the
effort was well worth it. The warm lobby and Main Hall filled those dark
places Draco had pulled
from
her. She staggered towards the Gryffyndor Tower and ran straight into Ron.
“Hermione?”
he asked incredulously.
“Ron!”
she wailed and wrapped herself around him. It was warming to see a red
and freckly face
again.
He began to stutter, his face and ears turning red as he blushed. He stuttered
all the way back
to
the Gryffyndor common room, and then to Madame Pomfrey’s.
In
any case, Draco had been right. Victor Krum was forgotten. And his grave
lay forgotten as
Hermione
fell in love again; this time with her best friend Ron Weasly.
Okay,
Okay, I know, it was hasty and weird. But I had fun writing it, and I wanted
for once to portray Draco as…
well,
Draco. None of this sobbing, “My father beats me, my mother rapes me, I
am Lord Voldemort’s lover” crap. If
Draco
ever tried to comfort Hermione, it would probably be by scaring the holy
shit out of her, then getting her to hate
whatever
it was that she was missing. Apologies to Viktor lovers out there (if there
are any), but I had to kill him.
Review,
please!!
Oh,
and flames are first laughed at, then heartily ignored. So don’t bother.
Just seethe and kick something nearby out
the
window.
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