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A/N: Hey there! Thanks for the crazy amounts of reviews; it’s so much fun to hear what you guys think. Anyway, the Queue was, I believe, 22 hours long when I sent in the fifth chapter…how amazing is that? Quick updates are brilliant! However, I wasn’t expecting to have such a short amount of time to write chapter six, hence the longer update on this one. Sorry about that.
Shout out to
lupa_mannera for all the amazing reviews. They made my heart swell!

Discoveries and Tears

But that night, for the first time since the night she had just relived, Hermione was completely alone.

Only her memories were there to keep her company, swirling over her body and seeping through her soul.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open as a loud crash sounded downstairs. Throwing off her heavy covers, she swung out of bed, snatched her wand off the nightstand and crept towards the portrait hole. Back pressed to the smooth wall, Hermione took a deep breath and threw open the door.

“Who’s there?” she said in a shaking voice, stepping onto the staircase and holding her wand high. “Lumos.

As the shocking light blinded her, Hermione squinted tightly and shielded her face with her hand. When her eyes finally adjusted to the brightness, she saw that the table was overturned, and was able to catch a glimpse of a blonde head disappearing into the portrait on the opposite staircase.

“Malfoy?” she asked. No response. “Malfoy!”

Sleepiness forgotten, Hermione spun around and dashed through her open portrait hole. Flinging open the door, she ran into the bathroom, bare feet clapping loudly against the marble floor. Reaching the neighboring entrance, she clasped onto the handle and pulled with all her might. The door was locked.

Stepping back, Hermione raised her wand, “Alohamora.


She heard a voice behind the door begin to speak a spell, and with a complicated motion, Hermione twirled her wand and shouted, “Bombarda!

The door burst open, sending dust flying everywhere. When it settled, she found herself face-to-face with Malfoy, who stood with his wand pointing at the spot the keyhole had been in moments before, his mouth still forming the spell he had been casting.


The handle glowed blue as the door flew shut and locked itself.

She stared at him, suddenly aware of how ridiculous she must have looked, having just gotten out of bed. Pushing into the room, she asked, “What were doing?”

Malfoy met her gaze. “I was taking a walk, Granger. Is that allowed?”

“Not at three-thirty in the morning, it isn’t. What were you doing?” Hermione repeated.

“It’s none of your business what I was doing, Mudblood. Get out of my room.” Malfoy spat.

“You scared me half to death with all the noise you made downstairs!” she cried. “Besides, Malfoy, you’re the one who locked me in.”

“What, were you afraid that the Dark Lord sent had come to find out where his most trusted Death Eater had disappeared to?” he said with a smirk. Hermione’s hand instantly flew to her left forearm, where the Dark Mark was twisting underneath her red silk pajamas. “No, Granger. He doesn’t even know that you’re at Hogwarts right now.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open a tiny bit and a confused expression spread across her face.

Malfoy continued. “Yes, that’s how well you beloved headmaster keeps you protected. After the…unfortunate death of your Weasel, security has…well, you can imagine.” He said with an evil grin.

Hermione’s insides turned to ice. Spinning around, she pointed her wand at the keyhole and began repeatedly casting Alohamora. The door wouldn’t budge. She made to move to the portrait hole, but Malfoy side-stepped her, blocking the way.

She glared up at him, and in a hostile tone she said, “Get out of the way, Malfoy.”

“Oh, did mention of Weasley get your knickers in a twist? Feeling guilty, Mudblo—” but Malfoy could not finish his sentence, for he was interrupted by a strong slap across his pale cheek.

Gaping at Hermione, he watched as she strode past him and out the portrait hole, and when the last strands of her hair disappeared down the staircase and out of sight, Malfoy brought his hand up to his face to feel his stinging cheek.

Double Potions. Merlin he hated them. Today they were doing Essence of Lackluster; excellent. Draco sat between Zambini and Nott, who were paying the same amount of attention to the instructions Professor Slughorn was giving as he was.

Malfoy began doodling in the margins of his Advanced Potion Making, working loops and swirls into his carefully constructed letter ‘M’.

Placing down his quill, Malfoy rested his chin in his hand and allowed his Professor’s enthusiastic voice to fade into the background. He was still tired from the previous night. He was going to have to let his instructor know that he couldn’t go on these late night missions anymore. Eyes roaming over the classroom, Draco’s heart squeezed painfully when they landed on the long mane of white blonde hair to his right. He knew that the beautiful hair belonged to a Ravenclaw in his year, Georgia Thompson. Yet every time he laid eyes on it he imagined that, just for a second, his mother had come back for him.

His memories began circling around him, until the most horrible one he had endured enveloped him.

It was the spring holidays. Draco had just returned home to Malfoy Manor after the long train ride back from Hogwarts, and it was nice to be home.

An intruder would have thought the house to be impersonal and cold, but to Draco it was home. He knew every nook and cranny, such as the small door in the back of his closet that led to a room; tiny, yes, but a secret all the same. When Draco was six, he and his mother would go in there to hold Wizengamot meetings with his stuffed owls. Then there was the dumbwaiter. As a child Draco would take rides from the pantry to the kitchen, until one day when he noticed a wooden door in the middle of his trip. On the way back up, Draco had opened the door and leapt out of the moving dumbwaiter. Crawling into the space, he came upon a filled with gold. Until the age of ten, when his father found out about his son’s discovery and forbade him to return, Draco would visit the hidden room every day with his play wand and pretend to make his stuffed animals fly.

Staring at the familiar arched ceiling and grand staircase, Draco rushed upstairs to greet his mother.

Draco and his mother had always gotten along the best in the family. For whether it was his constant absences or his cruel moments of indifference, Lucius Malfoy was not a great husband or father to his wife and child. Malfoy remembered his childhood, and on the lonely nights when his father was away, his mother would always be with him. She would sit on the side of his bed and sing him sweet songs under her breath until he fell asleep, stroking his hair.

Bursting through the doorway, Draco gazed upon his mother with a wide grin.

She sat upon a pink stool, staring at her reflection in the white vanity. Dressed in flowing white robes, golden hair pinned up in a delicate bun, Narcissa Malfoy was the essence of beauty. Yet she was gazing at herself disdainfully, prodding her porcelain skin with her fingertips.

“Mum! I’m home!” he exclaimed.

Noticing her son in the mirror, Narcissa spun around. When Draco saw the fear and sadness in her eyes, his smile disappeared. His mother strode towards him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Mother,” he whispered. “What’s wrong?”

Pulling away from her son, Narcissa spoke. “Draco, it’s you’re father. He’s upset the Dark Lord.”

Draco stared in horror at his mother. “What has he done?” he demanded.

“Please, Draco. I cannot explain. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is due to arrive any moment now.” she said.

Malfoy nodded fearfully, the panic alarms in his mind ringing with urgency. “What’s going to happen, Mother?”

At first Narcissa did not speak. She turned to Draco, and as their identical eyes met she whispered, “I love you, my son.”

Before Malfoy could respond, a loud chime sounded from downstairs. Mother and son stared at the open door, knowing that the noise was the house elf announcing the arrival of their guest, and without a single sound, filed quickly out of the room and down the stairs.

When his feet hit the bottom landing, Draco looked up. He was shocked to see the Dark Lord standing alone; no Death Eaters had accompanied him. His father slowly walked out of the shadows, giving the scurrying house elf a kick. The elf cried out in pain, but continued to run towards the kitchen with a slight limp.

“Well it seems that we now have the full family, Lucius.” Voldemort said. Draco’s skin prickled.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked loudly.

Before Lord Voldemort could speak, Lucius cut in. “Quiet, boy! You will not speak to the Dark Lord in such tones.”

“Lucius,” Voldemort spat. “I shall deal with your son in due time. It is you that had displeased me.

“You were to bring me the girl. It was truly very simple. Bring me the Mudblood. But you failed, Lucius, and now you will pay the price.”

Voldemort moved swiftly to Narcissa, who steeled herself for battle. Aiming his wand, he shouted, “Crucio!”

Narcissa screaming in agony as she crumpled to the ground, her body twitching and contorting in pain. Draco couldn’t take it any longer.

“STOP IT!” he screamed.

Voldemort inclined his head in the youngest Malfoy’s direction, and for two agonizing seconds held his gaze. Lifting the curse, Voldemort swept towards Draco and closed his fingers around his throat. Draco struggled against the Dark Lord’s grip, which only tightened with each thrashing movement.

Narcissa was weeping in the background, “My son…my only son.”

“Boy,” Voldemort began. “Do you understand what happens to my followers when they fail me?”

Draco, who’s face was turning a shade of purple, managed to shake his head weakly.

“They are punished!” Lord Voldemort shouted, releasing his grip on Draco’s neck and allowing the teen to sink to the floor, coughing and fighting desperately for oxygen.

Turning to Lucius, the Dark Lord raised his wand and, with a slashing motion, cried, “Sectumsempra!”

A gigantic gash tore across Lucius’ chest, and as his blood sprayed the room, speckling the white marble with red, he collapsed.

“Father!” Draco yelled, pushing himself off the ground and running towards Lucius. Huddled over him, Draco began muttering the countercurse, quickly healing the gaping wound.

Voldemort stood with an amused expression plastered across his evil face. “Oh, no, Draco. I don’t believe that I agree with your actions…Imperio!”

Draco was instantly engulfed in the most wonderful feeling he had felt in a long time. He was floating on air, not a worry in a world. His mother, father, and Voldemort were wiped from his mind, quickly replaced by unbelievable, delirious happiness.

Yet it was interrupted by Lord Voldemort’s voice, echoing somewhere in the back of his vacant brain:
Kill her…kill her…

Draco raised his wand unquestioningly, preparing to strike.

Kill her…

“Draco!” another voice screamed, “Please, Draco. You can do it. You can fight him!”

It was his mother.

Kill her…

No, I’d rather not, said another voice in the back of his head. No, no thanks.

Kill her!

The happiness was clearing now; Draco was beginning to see his mother’s form. Narcissa, her hair falling out of its neat bun, eyes tainted with her inward pain, pushed herself off the ground and rushed towards Draco, arms outstretched.

“Draco!” she shrieked.

Kill her! NOW!

Draco tried to fight the curse, but the power was too strong.

Pointing his wand at Narcissa, his mother, his family, Draco shouted:

“Avada Kedavra!”

The green light shot out of the tip of his wand, spiraling and sparking as it flew towards his mother’s chest. When it made contact with her flesh, her body glowed green for a split-second, before she crumpled to the ground.

The next moment, Draco had returned to earth. A considerable amount of pain erupted around his neck, but it was nothing compared to throbbing he felt in the pit of his stomach.

“MOTHER!” Draco cried, sprinting towards her lifeless form. Reaching her side, he knelt and scooped her into his arms, cradling her broken body. “No…Merlin, no!” he whispered, stoking her hair.

Head snapping upwards, Draco stared into the crimson eyes of the Dark Lord. “You! YOU DID THIS!”

“No, no Draco,” Voldemort said with a twisted smile. “This is all your doing. Your wand took Narcissa’s life. You spoke the words of death.”

With that remark, Lord Voldemort threw back his head a laughed. A bone chilling laugh that rang through Draco’s bruised body as his tears began to fall, dripping meaninglessly on his mother’s cold, pallid face…

Draco jerked back to the present at the sound of a book snapping shut on his left. Peering around, Malfoy saw that everyone in the class was packing away their materials and exiting the classroom; he had missed the entire lecture. Professor Slughorn was saying something to the backs of his retreating students’ heads, but Draco did not hear him. His thoughts were still on his mother. He looked down, noticing that he was shaking from head to toe. A voice was very close to him, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying.

Suddenly, Slughorn’s portly cheeks were directly in front of him.

“Dear boy, are you alright?” he said, concern etched across his face.

“What? Oh! Yes, sir. I’m just fine,” Draco mumbled, attempting to gather his books. His Advanced Potions Making fell out of his shaking hand and lay splayed on the floor.

“Mr. Malfoy! I would like you to go to the infirmary immediately. I shall alert your Professor that you will not be able to attend your next class.”

Nodding numbly, Draco snatched up his book and hurried out of the classroom as quickly as he could, knowing full well that he would not be heading in the direction of the infirmary.

Hermione lay in her bed, spread eagled and staring at the stars that splayed across the canopy of the four-poster. She was desperately trying to connect them, to create a constellation, but they stubbornly remained evenly spaced. Completely average.

She had two free periods that morning; Harry had invited her to go relax by the lake with him, but she had chosen to skip breakfast and sleep in. That too was ruined; interrupted by Malfoy.

The banging of a portrait hole being slammed sounded downstairs.

Speak of the devil.

Shoving herself lazily out of bed, Hermione trudged downstairs. Glancing at her watch, she had about five minutes until Transfiguration.

A shaken Malfoy hurried past her, so quickly that he crashed his shoulder into hers, sending a current of pain rippling through her body. He didn’t even turn back.

“Hey!” Hermione shouted, temper flaring. “You could at least apologize for smashing into me, Malfoy!”

He turned back when his first foot hit the staircase, and glared at her.

Had he been crying?

His eyes were certainly bloodshot. His trembling hand was having trouble gripping the banister.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“What do you care, Mudblood?” he said, before ascending the steps and disappearing into his bedroom.

Hermione stared at his closed portrait, her mouth hanging slightly open. The serpent hissed defensively.

Taking this as a cue to leave, Hermione turned around and sped out of the common room; she could be late for class.

A/N: Hey, guys! May I just say that I love you? Because you really have been great, and I thank you for reading and reviewing.
Sorry for the slow update. School’s been really rough and the Queue’s been really short...two things I wasn’t anticipating! =]
So I know this chapter wasn’t all that exciting, and the whole Malfoy part was horrible, but I really wanted to show the similarities between the two families Voldemort ripped apart.
Anyway, the next chapter is THE chapter...
If you know what I mean =]

Get excited!!

Please Review! They make me so happy!!!

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