Shatter the Wall

intro

The silence was deafening. After the intense noise of the Battle at Hogwarts, sound was muffled. He could smell smoke. Slowly, faraway voices began to ring, some weeping in sorrow, others crying in victory.

Voldemort was dead!

He opened his eyes.

"Come, Draco," his father commanded. His mother held out her hand.

"Just a moment, Father," he replied. He couldn't leave Hogwarts yet.

Was there hope? A chance for a fresh start?

He looked at his parents and felt trapped.

"May I have a minute alone, Father? Mother?"

His parents nodded and stepped back, but not too far away. This was their second chance too, and they weren't about to lose their son now.

Draco surveyed the remains of the battle scene below. Smoke was rising from the stone rubble of Hogwarts. Children and teachers huddled in groups, comforting one another. He felt the weight of condemnation descend upon his soul again. These were deaths that he had inadvertently caused. His own history seized him by the throat, and his eyes turned flat.

Lifting his eyes away from the fallen stone of Hogwarts and the dark people in pain below, he pondered the sky instead. The sky was a thick layer of grey, a typical overcast day in Scotland. Clouds were dense and flat. He touched the stone wall before him. His life was grey like the ashes of Hogwarts, like the sky above. This was his future: stone and ash.

He deserved no less. He was lucky to have his family who loved him and supported him. Trapped him, controlled him, his mind accused, but he brushed the thought aside. As a marked servant of the Dark Lord, he deserved his just rewards. Leaving Hogwarts with his parents was truly his only option. He would not be welcomed down below with his grieving classmates; his presence would only inflict more pain.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy waited quietly for their son. They stood nearby, watching his back, wondering what he was thinking. Lucius was anxious to leave, but Narcissa whispered, "Give him time, Lucius."

A future of years and years of dark skies made his lips tremble more than the loss of his friend Crabbe and other innocent lives down below. How pathetic to be grieving over his own future when so many had no future at all. Success, wealth, prestige, power, blood purity, all that he had thought was important was nothing to him now. Nothing.

A movement caught his eye. He turned his head. Dead, hopeless eyes encountered grief-stricken ones. He didn't even notice the bushy brown hair, the dirty disheveled clothing, or the wand in her hand. His eyes locked on hers relentlessly, almost as if she were his lifeline. Then he gave a start of surprise.

It's Granger, he realized. Hermione Granger, of Potter's Golden Trio, who had been tortured in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor by dear Aunt Bellatrix, while Draco had watched without lifting a finger to help. Shame for his own part in her suffering overwhelmed him.

Confronted by silver eyes and silvery blond hair, her eyes widened in surprise and she gripped her wand. But before she could say anything, Malfoy's eyes began to speak to her.

She froze. Would he spit out a sneering comment? Would he pull himself up to his snobbish height and peer down at her with disgust? She stood poised, ready to run or ready to attack, depending upon Malfoy's reaction to her.