Spring Fic Request for vexia
Spring Fic Request for vexia
Title: Acceptance
Author: bebe_jinx
Rating: PG-13 for one bloody hell, and a smoking scene.
Author's Note: So I was kinda late but only by 2…3 hours. This is for vexia; I really hope my dialogue isn’t witty and that the rage is well… rage. (that became harder than I thought it would be). A thank you to my beta for the quickie. I would like to say that this is my first HP fic so any constructive crits would be more than welcome. Thanks.
Summary: Graduation has come and with it their ending somehow it’s less than anyone would have imagined.
To say it was hot would be an understatement. The normal temperature of the castle, set at dank underlined with chilled, had heated to the point that Hermione Granger couldn’t see herself sitting in another stifling room for no reason other than just to fill a seat.
So instead she sat on a grassy knoll smoking her very last cigarette. The cool grass a welcoming feel compared to the cloth robes. The slowly sinking sun; broken and bleeding unto the horizon, had become her time piece letting her know that soon she would have to return to Hogwarts. School was ending, the war was truly beginning; the roar within the walls of the castle was deafening at times. The silence, not the scenery, was the reasoning behind her expedition.
But even within all that silence, Hermione could still not hear him.
“You shouldn’t smoke Hermione. Muggle cigarettes will kill you.” Draco Malfoy was standing behind her, blocking what little wind there was.
Without turning, Hermione answered simply; “You shouldn’t have turned me on to it.” She let out another puff of smoke and watched it dissipate into the humid air.
***
The young girl watched lazily as curls of smoke drifted through the stale air. She always seemed to be breathing in old air in his room. But then again the Head Boy’s room didn’t have a window. Pravati’s room did. Hermione had seen it enough when her friend repeatedly showed her the Head Girl’s room.
“Why smoke? It’s so bad for you.” She asked still watching smoke swirl from pale lips.
“But it feels so good.” Draco said letting the tiny fire fill his lungs before letting go and watching smoke flit from his lips. “That first puff…” he continued in a manner that Hermione accounted to sex and not smoking. “To hear the burning of the tip… Here try it.” Draco offered leaning the cigarette towards the girl.
Hermione refused shaking her head. “I’ve heard too many bad things about the effects of smoking.”
Draco snorted; “Hermione you used the killing curse two days ago. I think smoking is the least of your worries.”
“He was a Death Eater…” she said as defense.
“Still an Unforgivable.” He muttered loudly.
“But Dumbledore-”
Draco turned to look at her; wanting to make sure Hermione understood exactly what he was saying; “Half the wizards in England including the head of the Ministry hate the old man. Don’t think yourself impervious to punishment; you’re just a radical in their eyes.”
Draco waited for the spark of indignation and accusation that was Hermione, when none came he simply handed her the cigarette that had been dangling between his parted lips.
***
“It’s the end of the school year…” Draco said still standing behind her.
Hermione felt a smile twitch her lips. He always stated the obvious when he was nervous.
“Really?” She said turning to face him but not getting up. “I hadn’t noticed what with all the flyers, banners, and the fact no one can talk about anything else.” She couldn’t help the slip of sarcasm in her words.
Draco asked moving to finally stand in front of Hermione, blocking her view. The first thought in Hermione’s mind had been how hot Draco must be in all those robes. She had taken of her school robes opting to stay cool instead of proper.
“So this is how you’re going to deal with me?” Draco asked looking at her intently. “Now that Weasel has finally grown some balls you can just forget?”
Hermione snubbed her cigarette before speaking, only tasting the uncomfortable queasiness of Draco Malfoy’s cool stare; “It’s not that simple.”
“So it’s just a coincidence you stop speaking to me when Weasel finally asks you out?” Draco asked crossly, trying on purpose to rile her. He always used Ron’s or Harry’s “nickname” when he wanted her angry.
Although many a time Hermione had told herself to ignore his childishness, she could feel the spite in her words. “You never said I couldn’t.”
“…It was implied-“
“Don’t give me that.” Hermione spit finally looking up into his eyes. “Which of us were screwing Pansy two weeks ago?”
Hermione wasn’t supposed to know about that. At least she thought she wasn’t. But she wasn’t so sure since everyone, including Draco, knew Pansy keeping a secret was like Ronald petting a spider; something that was never going to happen.
The young girl knew she had stumped him with that admission. Since he carefully retorted, “I thought you didn’t listen to rumours Hermione?”
“Every rumour is somewhat based on fact.”
“So Potty wants the Weasel?” A smirk was creeping along Draco’s thin lips. He had asked that before, wanting to know how two guys could be so close.
Instead of answering his idiotic question, Hermione apologized; “I’m sorry for taking up Ronald’s offer.” She supposed he deserved that.
“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.” He admitted.
***
“Bloody Hell Hermione! Why him?” Draco yelled at the girl who was sitting at his desk.
Hermione, who had never seen Draco so angry, couldn’t quite believe such emotion could be poured over something that was so undefined like them.
“You never said anything.” She replied as defense even though she knew what a weak protest it was. She hadn’t seen anyone for seven months except for Draco Malfoy; she knew what he assumed.
“I thought you knew!” he choked out over the anger before kicking the nightstand beside his bed.
Hermione guessed that the news could have come to Draco in a better way, instead of her and Ronald showing up at breakfast time holding hands. But at the time when Ron had asked her out, she had thought it would be the best way to break up her trysts with Draco.
After seven months, Hermione had realized that being a relationship with someone during a war that could quite possibly leave her dead, did not seem like that best path. Besides being with Draco took up so much concentration and atten-
“Are you listening!?”
Hermione’s eyes shot up to see just how close Draco was to her.
“What?” she asked.
Draco stepped closer and grabbed her chin as a way to make her focus on him; “I want you to come with me. Leave with me.”
The young girl’s brows popped up in surprise before dropping in confusion; “Of course I can’t.” she answered. Her heart thumping wildly, in her mind knowing that she had said the wrong thing.
Hermione knew exactly why Draco picked the pink and white muggle music box to break. She had given it to him for safe keeping so logically; it being broken would hurt her. Hopefully it would cause more pain than he had ever felt originally.
He picked up the music box. And before Hermione could let out a shriek of protest, he hurled it against the old wall of his room.
And as it shattered Hermione felt something lessen inside of her. She wasn’t quite sure what it was; love, understanding, compassion, trust…
“You broke it.” She whispered, walking over to the pieces; staring not quite sure if she should scream or cry.
“I’ll make a new one. It’s just a music box Hermione. Not even that expensive.” Draco said nonchalantly as he came to stand beside her to see his damage.
“No…it’s not the same.” She breathed. Already she could feel this heavy doom settling in her. She thought the hurt would have stopped by now.
“Why is it so special, did Weasel give it to you?” Draco accused with a sneer upon his face to match the disgust within his voice.
“No.” Hermione said kneeling to pick at the pieces not shattered to tiny pieces that seemed to remind Hermione of herself. “My parents did.”
***
The young girl snorted with a small smile. “Really?” She still had a bruise on the inside of her elbow.
They sat staring, not at one another but the sky that was blending hues of orange, violet and swirls of blue to create a sunset that Hermione knew she probably would never again have the time or freedom to see.
“Why do you think I said no?” Hermione finally asked trying to break the silence between them.
Without even hesitating Draco answered; “Because you think Weasley can give you more. Because you know that’s where everyone says you should be -by his side.”
Hermione shook her head at his thoughtless answer. He still hadn’t realized that the war was bigger than the two of them or even the Trio itself. “Draco, the war begins tomorrow after graduation. I can’t -I refuse to run away. And you won’t fight. There isn’t any way out. For me or you.”
“My father-“
“I know why you came on to me in the first place.” She said speaking of the very beginning between them. “I know you wanted a way for your father to kick you out of the family. What better way than me, the filthy mudblood?” The last word not tasting bitter like it had after hearing it from Draco’s lips so many times. After several years, Hermione had finally realized that mudblood was just a word. Only given meaning if she gave it one.
“Do you still think that?” he asked apprehension in his eyes; an emotion that hadn’t shown itself until months after the first encounter.
Hermione shrugged, “I’m not sure if I really care. After tomorrow, I think I’ll be too busy trying to keep me, Harry and Ronald alive to think about …us or anything else for that matter.”
“I don’t think that. Not anymore. I know different now.” Draco said anyway.
“Guess I achieved something at Hogwarts after all.”
“Is your speech ready?” He asked ignoring her sarcastic response.
Hermione remarked incredulously; “What is there to say? I hope you live long enough to have a good life?”
“What?” Hermione asked self-consciously noticing how Draco was staring at her.
He peered at her and Hermione could see the judgment before he finally spoke aloud; “I didn’t notice when you lost hope. I thought you dealt with your parents’ death.”
She had come to him that night Dumbledore had told her about the mysterious fire that had burned her parents alive. And even though from a glance it appeared to be the work of faulty wiring that had sparked at the wrong time, Dumbledore had implied that maybe further investigation would create a clearer conclusion that was more in line with the Wizarding World.
And even though Draco understood what was in her, his own mother killing herself in an opium binge, he was the only person to not offer her any type of comfort. And Hermione realized she wanted that, because Draco didn’t make her hide or pretend that it would be all right -ever. He understood that sometimes time wasn’t enough to fill a loss of life.
“I did. It’s called realism. People die Draco.” She said almost coldly, pulling at tufts of grass beneath her. “I’m just lucky not to be one of them yet.” That ‘yet’ had attached itself to Hermione’s acceptance of danger and death some time ago.
“That’s what happens when you hang around Potty for seven years.” Draco theorized casually leaning back on the palms of his hands. “You forget that life isn’t just about not dying. “
“I haven’t lost hope Draco. If I had I wouldn’t be fighting.”
“Are you going to university?” Draco suddenly asked. Hermione thought it strange that he didn’t already know.
“Can’t. There’s a war to fight. You?”
“Didn’t you notice Hermione? There’s a war. Going to school would be a waste.”
Hermione wrinkled her brow trying to decipher exactly what Draco was saying. For the past couple of months school had been his only get out for the war. But he wasn’t going to school, which only meant…
“Which side?” she asked quickly snapping her eyes to his.
She may have trusted Draco more but she had realized long ago that if he ever did choose, she would never be able to guess to who.
And Draco did what he was best at and avoided the question.
“Are you happy its over?” he asked instead looking back at the castle that looked half its size from their position.
“The school year? Or us?” she asked, although she already knew his true question.
“…School.” He said hesitatingly, even though she knew that speaking about school was speaking about them.
“I wish we had a little bit longer.” Hermione let out. She looked over to him wanting to know if he understood. He blinked before looking at her, a twitch of a smile at the left corner of his mouth the only admission that he got her message.
Hermione couldn’t help the drop in her stomach or the small flutter that passed over her.
“Would you have done anything different if you had known about me?” The young girl asked. They were so much older and still she wasn’t quite sure about him.
“No. I like to think you fell in love with my bad boy façade.” He retorted a full smirk on pale lips.
“No. I always knew Draco. Façades can only go so deep.” She said seriously, dampening the light in his voice.
“I’m sorry for breaking the music box.” He whispered unexpectedly even though there was not another soul around them.
Hermione nodded not looking at him but the sun that had turned from blazing to a whimper, only remnants its glory in the bright line of the horizon. “I know.”
“I’m sorry… for everything.” He finally said, his voice thoughtful.
And Hermione knew he wasn’t apologizing just for their past but also for whatever happened to them in the future.
“I know.” Hermione said turning to look at him again, wanting to see him one last time; trying to ignore the heaviness in her heart at what had to come. “Me too.”
Name: vexia
Rating(s) of the fic you want: PG-13 or R
One tone/mood you want your gift to include: Rage
One element/theme/item you want your gift to include: Broken music box
One common cliché you don't want your gift to include: Witty dialogue
Thank you for participating in the Spring Forward Exchange!
Title: Acceptance
Author: bebe_jinx
Rating: PG-13 for one bloody hell, and a smoking scene.
Author's Note: So I was kinda late but only by 2…3 hours. This is for vexia; I really hope my dialogue isn’t witty and that the rage is well… rage. (that became harder than I thought it would be). A thank you to my beta for the quickie. I would like to say that this is my first HP fic so any constructive crits would be more than welcome. Thanks.
Summary: Graduation has come and with it their ending somehow it’s less than anyone would have imagined.
To say it was hot would be an understatement. The normal temperature of the castle, set at dank underlined with chilled, had heated to the point that Hermione Granger couldn’t see herself sitting in another stifling room for no reason other than just to fill a seat.
So instead she sat on a grassy knoll smoking her very last cigarette. The cool grass a welcoming feel compared to the cloth robes. The slowly sinking sun; broken and bleeding unto the horizon, had become her time piece letting her know that soon she would have to return to Hogwarts. School was ending, the war was truly beginning; the roar within the walls of the castle was deafening at times. The silence, not the scenery, was the reasoning behind her expedition.
But even within all that silence, Hermione could still not hear him.
“You shouldn’t smoke Hermione. Muggle cigarettes will kill you.” Draco Malfoy was standing behind her, blocking what little wind there was.
Without turning, Hermione answered simply; “You shouldn’t have turned me on to it.” She let out another puff of smoke and watched it dissipate into the humid air.
***
The young girl watched lazily as curls of smoke drifted through the stale air. She always seemed to be breathing in old air in his room. But then again the Head Boy’s room didn’t have a window. Pravati’s room did. Hermione had seen it enough when her friend repeatedly showed her the Head Girl’s room.
“Why smoke? It’s so bad for you.” She asked still watching smoke swirl from pale lips.
“But it feels so good.” Draco said letting the tiny fire fill his lungs before letting go and watching smoke flit from his lips. “That first puff…” he continued in a manner that Hermione accounted to sex and not smoking. “To hear the burning of the tip… Here try it.” Draco offered leaning the cigarette towards the girl.
Hermione refused shaking her head. “I’ve heard too many bad things about the effects of smoking.”
Draco snorted; “Hermione you used the killing curse two days ago. I think smoking is the least of your worries.”
“He was a Death Eater…” she said as defense.
“Still an Unforgivable.” He muttered loudly.
“But Dumbledore-”
Draco turned to look at her; wanting to make sure Hermione understood exactly what he was saying; “Half the wizards in England including the head of the Ministry hate the old man. Don’t think yourself impervious to punishment; you’re just a radical in their eyes.”
Draco waited for the spark of indignation and accusation that was Hermione, when none came he simply handed her the cigarette that had been dangling between his parted lips.
***
“It’s the end of the school year…” Draco said still standing behind her.
Hermione felt a smile twitch her lips. He always stated the obvious when he was nervous.
“Really?” She said turning to face him but not getting up. “I hadn’t noticed what with all the flyers, banners, and the fact no one can talk about anything else.” She couldn’t help the slip of sarcasm in her words.
Draco asked moving to finally stand in front of Hermione, blocking her view. The first thought in Hermione’s mind had been how hot Draco must be in all those robes. She had taken of her school robes opting to stay cool instead of proper.
“So this is how you’re going to deal with me?” Draco asked looking at her intently. “Now that Weasel has finally grown some balls you can just forget?”
Hermione snubbed her cigarette before speaking, only tasting the uncomfortable queasiness of Draco Malfoy’s cool stare; “It’s not that simple.”
“So it’s just a coincidence you stop speaking to me when Weasel finally asks you out?” Draco asked crossly, trying on purpose to rile her. He always used Ron’s or Harry’s “nickname” when he wanted her angry.
Although many a time Hermione had told herself to ignore his childishness, she could feel the spite in her words. “You never said I couldn’t.”
“…It was implied-“
“Don’t give me that.” Hermione spit finally looking up into his eyes. “Which of us were screwing Pansy two weeks ago?”
Hermione wasn’t supposed to know about that. At least she thought she wasn’t. But she wasn’t so sure since everyone, including Draco, knew Pansy keeping a secret was like Ronald petting a spider; something that was never going to happen.
The young girl knew she had stumped him with that admission. Since he carefully retorted, “I thought you didn’t listen to rumours Hermione?”
“Every rumour is somewhat based on fact.”
“So Potty wants the Weasel?” A smirk was creeping along Draco’s thin lips. He had asked that before, wanting to know how two guys could be so close.
Instead of answering his idiotic question, Hermione apologized; “I’m sorry for taking up Ronald’s offer.” She supposed he deserved that.
“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.” He admitted.
***
“Bloody Hell Hermione! Why him?” Draco yelled at the girl who was sitting at his desk.
Hermione, who had never seen Draco so angry, couldn’t quite believe such emotion could be poured over something that was so undefined like them.
“You never said anything.” She replied as defense even though she knew what a weak protest it was. She hadn’t seen anyone for seven months except for Draco Malfoy; she knew what he assumed.
“I thought you knew!” he choked out over the anger before kicking the nightstand beside his bed.
Hermione guessed that the news could have come to Draco in a better way, instead of her and Ronald showing up at breakfast time holding hands. But at the time when Ron had asked her out, she had thought it would be the best way to break up her trysts with Draco.
After seven months, Hermione had realized that being a relationship with someone during a war that could quite possibly leave her dead, did not seem like that best path. Besides being with Draco took up so much concentration and atten-
“Are you listening!?”
Hermione’s eyes shot up to see just how close Draco was to her.
“What?” she asked.
Draco stepped closer and grabbed her chin as a way to make her focus on him; “I want you to come with me. Leave with me.”
The young girl’s brows popped up in surprise before dropping in confusion; “Of course I can’t.” she answered. Her heart thumping wildly, in her mind knowing that she had said the wrong thing.
Hermione knew exactly why Draco picked the pink and white muggle music box to break. She had given it to him for safe keeping so logically; it being broken would hurt her. Hopefully it would cause more pain than he had ever felt originally.
He picked up the music box. And before Hermione could let out a shriek of protest, he hurled it against the old wall of his room.
And as it shattered Hermione felt something lessen inside of her. She wasn’t quite sure what it was; love, understanding, compassion, trust…
“You broke it.” She whispered, walking over to the pieces; staring not quite sure if she should scream or cry.
“I’ll make a new one. It’s just a music box Hermione. Not even that expensive.” Draco said nonchalantly as he came to stand beside her to see his damage.
“No…it’s not the same.” She breathed. Already she could feel this heavy doom settling in her. She thought the hurt would have stopped by now.
“Why is it so special, did Weasel give it to you?” Draco accused with a sneer upon his face to match the disgust within his voice.
“No.” Hermione said kneeling to pick at the pieces not shattered to tiny pieces that seemed to remind Hermione of herself. “My parents did.”
***
The young girl snorted with a small smile. “Really?” She still had a bruise on the inside of her elbow.
They sat staring, not at one another but the sky that was blending hues of orange, violet and swirls of blue to create a sunset that Hermione knew she probably would never again have the time or freedom to see.
“Why do you think I said no?” Hermione finally asked trying to break the silence between them.
Without even hesitating Draco answered; “Because you think Weasley can give you more. Because you know that’s where everyone says you should be -by his side.”
Hermione shook her head at his thoughtless answer. He still hadn’t realized that the war was bigger than the two of them or even the Trio itself. “Draco, the war begins tomorrow after graduation. I can’t -I refuse to run away. And you won’t fight. There isn’t any way out. For me or you.”
“My father-“
“I know why you came on to me in the first place.” She said speaking of the very beginning between them. “I know you wanted a way for your father to kick you out of the family. What better way than me, the filthy mudblood?” The last word not tasting bitter like it had after hearing it from Draco’s lips so many times. After several years, Hermione had finally realized that mudblood was just a word. Only given meaning if she gave it one.
“Do you still think that?” he asked apprehension in his eyes; an emotion that hadn’t shown itself until months after the first encounter.
Hermione shrugged, “I’m not sure if I really care. After tomorrow, I think I’ll be too busy trying to keep me, Harry and Ronald alive to think about …us or anything else for that matter.”
“I don’t think that. Not anymore. I know different now.” Draco said anyway.
“Guess I achieved something at Hogwarts after all.”
“Is your speech ready?” He asked ignoring her sarcastic response.
Hermione remarked incredulously; “What is there to say? I hope you live long enough to have a good life?”
“What?” Hermione asked self-consciously noticing how Draco was staring at her.
He peered at her and Hermione could see the judgment before he finally spoke aloud; “I didn’t notice when you lost hope. I thought you dealt with your parents’ death.”
She had come to him that night Dumbledore had told her about the mysterious fire that had burned her parents alive. And even though from a glance it appeared to be the work of faulty wiring that had sparked at the wrong time, Dumbledore had implied that maybe further investigation would create a clearer conclusion that was more in line with the Wizarding World.
And even though Draco understood what was in her, his own mother killing herself in an opium binge, he was the only person to not offer her any type of comfort. And Hermione realized she wanted that, because Draco didn’t make her hide or pretend that it would be all right -ever. He understood that sometimes time wasn’t enough to fill a loss of life.
“I did. It’s called realism. People die Draco.” She said almost coldly, pulling at tufts of grass beneath her. “I’m just lucky not to be one of them yet.” That ‘yet’ had attached itself to Hermione’s acceptance of danger and death some time ago.
“That’s what happens when you hang around Potty for seven years.” Draco theorized casually leaning back on the palms of his hands. “You forget that life isn’t just about not dying. “
“I haven’t lost hope Draco. If I had I wouldn’t be fighting.”
“Are you going to university?” Draco suddenly asked. Hermione thought it strange that he didn’t already know.
“Can’t. There’s a war to fight. You?”
“Didn’t you notice Hermione? There’s a war. Going to school would be a waste.”
Hermione wrinkled her brow trying to decipher exactly what Draco was saying. For the past couple of months school had been his only get out for the war. But he wasn’t going to school, which only meant…
“Which side?” she asked quickly snapping her eyes to his.
She may have trusted Draco more but she had realized long ago that if he ever did choose, she would never be able to guess to who.
And Draco did what he was best at and avoided the question.
“Are you happy its over?” he asked instead looking back at the castle that looked half its size from their position.
“The school year? Or us?” she asked, although she already knew his true question.
“…School.” He said hesitatingly, even though she knew that speaking about school was speaking about them.
“I wish we had a little bit longer.” Hermione let out. She looked over to him wanting to know if he understood. He blinked before looking at her, a twitch of a smile at the left corner of his mouth the only admission that he got her message.
Hermione couldn’t help the drop in her stomach or the small flutter that passed over her.
“Would you have done anything different if you had known about me?” The young girl asked. They were so much older and still she wasn’t quite sure about him.
“No. I like to think you fell in love with my bad boy façade.” He retorted a full smirk on pale lips.
“No. I always knew Draco. Façades can only go so deep.” She said seriously, dampening the light in his voice.
“I’m sorry for breaking the music box.” He whispered unexpectedly even though there was not another soul around them.
Hermione nodded not looking at him but the sun that had turned from blazing to a whimper, only remnants its glory in the bright line of the horizon. “I know.”
“I’m sorry… for everything.” He finally said, his voice thoughtful.
And Hermione knew he wasn’t apologizing just for their past but also for whatever happened to them in the future.
“I know.” Hermione said turning to look at him again, wanting to see him one last time; trying to ignore the heaviness in her heart at what had to come. “Me too.”
Name: vexia
Rating(s) of the fic you want: PG-13 or R
One tone/mood you want your gift to include: Rage
One element/theme/item you want your gift to include: Broken music box
One common cliché you don't want your gift to include: Witty dialogue
Thank you for participating in the Spring Forward Exchange!