by Black-Diamonds
 
 

Chapter 18
Children Of The Revolution
 

“My friends,” Draco spread his arms open in a grand gesture, his face solemn. “My friends we
have gathered together...to celebrate!” A roar went up from the crowd, most of them eagerly
cheering and clapping for their Lord and master, some slightly tense and nervous. Ginny nervously
wrung her hands together, but she too joined in the applause.

“Now you may have heard of the plans of that idiot with his, dare-I-say-it, VOLDEMORT given
scar - “A few people chuckled. “- But I do not think any of you will be foolish enough to believe
the ludicrous rumours. Potter will never win...I, Draco, Your devoted lord, will conquer that fool’s
childish dreams of being the best!” It was no longer really a school-days rivalry between two boys,
but a battle between titles and loyalties. “My loyal followers...tonight shall be our night of glory!”

Hermione would have found his imitation of valour quite hilarious at one stage. All that flourishing
of grand arm movements and those proud statements of his own greatness. But things had changed
immensely. Now his actions acted in only increasing her fear for him. There might have been several
hundreds of Draco’s followers here, but they would never be enough to defeat Harry and his own
army of wizards. And she still had no idea what he had in mind to finish this all off. The drinks and
fine foods would act as a cover for the real fear and anxiety that lingered in all their hearts for only
so long. Soon, as early as sunrise the next morning, they would have to face the truth. Something
would happen. Something had to, and was bound to. There was a feeling that everything was already
planned on some cosmic level, and that nothing could be done to change whatever fate had in store
for them. Hermione placed an arm around Draco and stepped closer to him. Draco gently rested his
chin on the top of her head.

“What shall we do Hermione?”

“Our ultimatums will come soon enough . But until then...we’ll party, won’t we? If this is the last
bash, might as well make it the best!” She raised her almost empty champagne glass and clinked it
against his own. Her actions seemed half out of place, and just as plastic as Draco’s words. The
room itself and the scene before...everything was artificial, as if it had all been cut out of cardboard
and stuck on a piece of paper. Bits and pieces of paper collage thrown together to make some sort
of sense. A foreboding cloud that hung above all their heads was deliberately ignored as they
drowned their uncertainties in alcohol.

A slow hypnotic waltz and the tinklings of a piano echoed through the manor, magically amplified.
Draco pulled Hermione in a slow circle and wrapped his arms around her, swaying slowly to the
music.

“People might be watching...Slytherin.” She grinned up at him.

“They can all sod off and mind their own business...Gryffindor.” He chuckled.

Suddenly Hermione started crying softly, burying her face in the soft thick material of his highly
expensive black dress robes. Her hands tightly gripped the lapels of his robes.

“Draco...I don’t want to leave this moment. Ever.”

He had no words in return for her, only a burning in his heart so intense, it made the past seem
like a hazy nightmare.

Sure, he hated everything. Gods, he even hated himself. The years of abuse and suffering under
Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort...the further trouble at Hogwarts. Of course, he hated Harry Potter.
Harry Potter had things he could only dream of, like true friends. God forbid, he had even hated
Hermione Granger, once(it seemed like forever ago). She was so smart, so witty. Her and that
Potter along with the Weasel...they rode the wave of popularity like a sodding tide at the beach.
But hate was a step away from love. He didn’t dare plunge into THAT abyss while at that damn
school, but it had haunted him. He had wanted control and power in his life. He’d never wanted
to really be such a killer. But after years of not being allowed to feel anything but hate, he’d turned
that hate into a lust to be a figure of authority, of dominance. Thus year by year, until now, nine
years after Hogwarts, he had come to be exactly where he was, surrounded by people that
adored him and followed his every word, yet only really caring about one of them...the one he
was dancing with.

As the song ended, Draco and Hermione gently pulled apart from each other.

“Mione, can I talk to you?” Ginny, in robes of a splendid deep blue, walked up to them, and
smiled at Hermione, who hastily wiped her damp cheeks.

“Unless you object of course, my Lord.” Ginny turned to Draco.

“No no...go ahead. Secret Girl’s business is something the Dark Lord can’t interfere with.”
A smile played on his lips, and he waved at Hermione.

“Go.”

“Draco-”

“I’ll see you later Hermione. Now go woman!”

Hermione and Ginny walked off.

“Hermione-” Ginny started, at the same time that Hermione said her name. Ginny laughed.

“I think I’d better explain everything.”

“Yes, I think you should.”

“Perhaps...perhaps you’re wondering how I ended up here. Ickle Ronnie’s little sister...”

Hermione nodded and blushed.

“Yes Ginny, I did wonder. I never knew...”

“And I never really knew...well, I heard that you were kidnapped from your office at the
ministry, but I never dreamed that this is where it would all end up. But do you want to know
why I am where I am?” Ginny rolled her glass between her hands, and continued without
waiting for Hermione to answer. “Because it offered me some sort of role in life. Instead of
being the weak, pathetic little tag-along, for once I felt like an actual somebody...”

“I understand.” Hermione put a hand on Ginny’s arm.

*

Towards the end of the evening, Draco stood again at his little podium.

“Adieu, adieu my friends! Parting is such sweet sorrow. But fear not! For the brave do not
really die. And so I bid you a most wonderful goodnight, and farewell.” Draco turned and
took Hermione’s hand in his. No-one fully understood why he was saying farewell. But they
wondered, perhaps it was because he was drunk. Goyle, big and dumb as he had always
been, turned to Crabbe beside him.

“I thought he said he wasn’t going to run?”

“I don’t think he intends to.” Muttered a pensive Snape standing nearby, almost to himself.
 
 
 

a/n:
Sorry for not e-owling straight away with the updates(will try to as soon as stoopid email works again!)
The chapter title comes from the song with the same name.

Back to Chapter 17
Chapter 19