Notes:
Damsontongue has wings but is not off the ground yet. I’m going to finish
this story before I
get wrapped
up in something else. I may also do some cute HP slash work or some Digimon
fics for
the people
in that forum first. But keep your eyes open!
For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky
by
Pata
Chapter
9
Flying
Pigs
An awed silence
fell over the courtroom as the memory faded. After a moment, Molly Weasley
said
quietly, "Well.
I had no idea."
Arthur wrapped
a comforting arm around her shoulders, whispering words of solace in her
ear. She
wiped her
eyes, speaking back to him in hushed tones. But she was just a little too
loud, and I could
hear every
word.
"I know he
killed Ron, but look at him, Arthur. His father was abusive, his mother
largely stayed out
of his life,
no siblings - "
"Lucius probably killed them," said Arthur. "Shame he didn’t kill the little Malfoy too."
Molly pursed
her lips. "Arthur! Don’t talk like that. I want him to be punished, I mean,
he did kill our
youngest son…"
here she paused to dry her eyes, "…but I don’t want him to be given the
Kiss. Poor
boy, he’s
only a teenager."
Arthur said,
"He’s old enough to be tried as an adult. He’s therefore old enough to
be punished like
one."
"Don’t you have any pity?" Molly asked.
"Molly Weasley, the boy killed our son," Arthur hissed gravely.
My eavesdropping
was quickly interrupted by the head judge’s stern monotonous voice. "Well
then,
all, regardless
of the new light this sheds on our case, we will continue memory display
as before."
He turned to
me and I thought he was going to say more. I gave him a look as if to keep
him talking.
"I’d love
to keep delaying, Mr. Malfoy," he drawled falsely, "but there are no words."
And the world
broke into a million tiny blurred pieces. I blinked, trying to bring at
least some part back
into focus,
but it failed. I was slightly angered now, having my privacy exposed like
this. I attempted
(vainly, of
course) to drive them away from my memories.
They played
several cute little memories of romantic hazy spring days with Hermione.
The memories
drifted slowly
by, somewhat like a ferryboat, as romantic spring memories will do.
*
I was sitting
on a rock by the lake, feet dangling just over the water, at sunset, alone.
The water was
dark, the
color you see just before you pass out, the color of the furthest corners
of your mind where
you push things
you don’t want to think about.
The blackness
was woven intermittently with strands of silver and orange as the sun bent
its
magnificent
head to drink of the water. Slowly, its bowed fiery mane sank as the purple
of the night
sky predominated
the fading rays of light.
I toed the water tentatively. Cold, but not freezing; a not altogether unpleasant sensation.
"Beautiful, isn’t it?"
I let out a
small squeak of surprise at the voice, slipping off the rock and plunging
into the lake water
in a very
compromising belly-flop.
The voice laughed,
clear-toned and beautiful, as I resurfaced and spat water from my mouth.
My
robes were
heavy and weighed me down, my blonde hair hung over my eyes and stuck to
my cheeks
and I brushed
the few strands of my fringe back over my head. I wiped the lakewater from
my eyes,
opening them
to see Hermione, sitting on the rock, hugging one leg to her chest and
the other, bare,
skimming above
the water.
"Oh, I am gonna kill you…" I let the empty threat hang.
"What? You fell," she said with a laugh.
I swam over
to the edge of the rock and grabbed hold of the slippery, mossy surface,
using arm
strength to
hoist myself up and out of the water. Hermione was still smiling, and I
couldn’t help but
smile myself.
*
The fluttering of butterfly wings returned, and I could nearly feel the anger radiating from my father.
Hermione smiled reassuringly, but the tears in her eyes were all too plain. I shook my head.
Don’t waste your time, Herm.
*
I took my seat
on the rock, trying to find some shred of warmth or dryness, but there
were none.
A spring breeze
rustled the treetops and blew over the rock, and I was possessed by a shivering
fit.
Hermione looked
at me.
"Cold?"
I replied through chattering teeth, "No shit, Sherlock."
*
Hermione buried
her face in her hands, knowing what was coming next. I wished desperately
that I
could comfort
her.
*
She removed
her robes, revealing her Muggle clothing underneath. She shook them out,
then draped
them over
my hunched shoulders, rubbing gently to help warm me up.
"Thanks," I muttered.
She stared at me. "His Majesty is thanking me?" she questioned in sarcastic awe.
"I didn’t ask for your attitude, Granger."
"I didn’t ask for you to fall into that lake either. You should be thankful I’m being generous."
A snort. "Right, you, generous toward me. Look, there goes a flying pig!"
"Shut up,
Malfoy!" She smacked me upside the head. "You’re such a sniveling, obsequious
weasel
of a human
being!"
"That’s ferret,
thank you very much. If you will recall, I am a sniveling, obsequious white
ferret of a
human being."
"Oh, whatever!"
An exasperated sigh. "God, you’re so ungrateful! I don’t know if it’s just
the way
you were raised,
or if you’re really like that, but – uh, you are so horrid!"
She turned
away, angry, indignant, that she couldn’t change me. For a moment I studied
her, in
complete silence,
marveling, taking in the way that she would sit there, and that she take
off her own
robes so that
I would be comfortable.
Twice I opened
my mouth, and twice I closed it again, words failing me. Long I sat and
looked at her
back, wondering
why she didn’t walk away. Finally, I said, "And you’re standing there,
wondering,
‘What do I
see in him?’"
Though I couldn’t
see it at the time, her expression went from anger to horror to surprise
and back to
anger very
quickly. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, fingers opening and
closing spasmodically.
I realized
immediately that what I had said cut even deeper than I had intended. Slowly,
she turned to
face me, anger
burning in her tear-moistened eyes. "For once, Malfoy, we agree on something.
You
really are
a sniveling, obsequious white ferret of a human being."
And she turned
on her heel and strode rapidly away, leaving me alone, wet but draped in
her warm,
red, Gryffindor-emblazoned
robes. I sat, silently forlorn, as the last dying rays of sunlight gave
way to
the blue oblivion
that was night.
The air was warm and the breezes had gone, but I was suddenly very cold.
*
The colors
left and the memory dissipated, and the courtroom broke out in hushed conversation.
I caught snippets
of speech.
"He was so rude!"
"Poor Hermione, she was just trying to help."
"Draco was
falling in love with her! Couldn’t you feel the way his stomach tightened
whenever she
spoke?"
"No, you’re
wrong. Hermione was falling for Draco. Didn’t you see her face when he
asked her
what she saw
in him?"
"Silence!"
roared the head judge. "We are not finished! There is more to this memory.
Then, if you
shall all
be seated, we will proceed."
*
The Slytherin
common room was a rather cozy place, if not rather gothic. It was decorated
sparsely;
a fire burned
perpetually in the hearth (though it actually gave off cool air in the
summer), upholstered
green chairs
and a large sofa adorned it, and various small tables supported flowers
and plants of all
sorts.
I didn’t linger
in the common room, though, I shot straight up to the dormitory and put
on some fresh
robes. My
hair had gone into ‘post-swimming’ mode, meaning it basically hung down
like tendrils of
silver-blonde
around my face.
I tried to
dry it but only succeeded in causing to frizz excessively, so I gave up
and let it hang rattail-like.
I was nervous,
for some reason, I wanted to look my best. I used a quick spell to wash
Hermione’s
robes and
then threw them down on the bed and smoothed out all the wrinkles.
I fastened
the silver serpent button at the top of my robes, gathered Hermione’s in
my arms, and
exited to
the hallway with more than a few questioning stares of other Slytherins
following me.
No doubt they
were wondering why I was carrying Gryffindor robes, and no doubt there
was more
than one kinky
thought. I shrugged that fear off. What they thought was not important.
I made quick
pace down the winding hallways of Hogwarts, so lost in my thoughts that
I didn’t notice
where I was
until I came nose to nose with the Fat Lady’s portrait. She frowned dismally
at me.
"What do you
want?"
"I, uh, came to return these?" I offered, showing her the red robes.
She eyed them
briefly. "Fine." She vanished into the frame. A few seconds later the picture
swung
outward, and
Ron poked his head out the hole. As soon as he saw me, rainclouds seemed
to clash
over his head.
"You," he said simply.
"I came for
- " I began, but he cut me off.
"Don’t bother
making excuses," he snapped. "I’ll get Hermione."
"Thanks, next
time I find some loose change on the ground I’ll give it to your father!"
I yelled after
Hermione’s
face appeared. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"I came to
return these." I held up the robes. "Washed, of course."
"At least they
won’t smell like you," she snapped, taking them from me.
"That was uncalled
for. I came here to be nice to you, and how do you repay it?"
"Well, how
did you repay it back at the lake?"
"By returning
your robes. All neat-and-tidy like."
A shrug. "First
time you ever went out of your way for a Mudblood."
"You’ve been
tutoring me. It was a kind thing of you to do." I rubbed the back of my
neck
"Same way you’ve
been being kind to Harry and Ron, eh?"
"I made no
promises to them. Potty and the Weasel might as well get married and go
on a
"If anyone
is honeymooning, it sure as hell won’t be Harry and Ron."
A slight smile,
barely contained. "Yeah, and who would it be, then?"
She looked
at me, and something changed in her eyes, only for a second. Her face was
so sincere,
I failed miserably
at trying to keep myself from looking shocked and slightly hurt. I tried
to say
"Sharp enough
to cut yours off, hopefully."
I raised an
eyebrow quizzically. "You want to kiss me?"
"What!" A surprised
gasp. "When did I say that?"
"How else would
you have the chance to chop off my tongue with your own?" A wry smile.
She glared
at me. "I’d be careful, Malfoy. I hear that dressmaker in Diagon Alley
will pay big
"Nice move,
hot lips," she commented uninterestedly.
"Yeah, yeah."
I turned and left, strangely disappointed.
*
The judge grinned
ironically at me. "You were wanting for her to kiss you, Mr. Malfoy."
"I was a hormonal
teenager," I fibbed quickly. "I still am. It’s just…hormones. Nothing more."
"Nothing more,"
lied Hermione with a quiet sadness.
him, more
rudely than was necessary.
uncomfortably.
"So…I’ve made an effort to be nicer to you."
honeymoon
for all I care. If I wanted to follow their affairs I would have done it
already."
for I moment
I was sure she was going to say something strikingly romantic about her
and myself
going on a
honeymoon. But instead she said, "Go wash the lakewater out of your ears,
Malfoy. I’m
not going
on a honeymoon, and certainly not with you. Like you said earlier, there
goes
a flying pig."
She spat out
the last part contemptuously, staring directly into my eyes.
something
but no words would come. It was like she’d read my mind! After a few seconds
of
stuttering,
I managed to regain my composure and snort, "Woah, sharp tongue you got
there."
"Looks like
we will be going on a honeymoon, the ferret and the bucktoothed
beaver."
money for
mink and ferret coats to make expensive robes out of." With that, she slammed
the
door in my
face and the Fat Lady returned to her portrait.
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