A Thousand Words

Chapter 3: Shadow and Starlight

'Hermione!'

'Yes, Mrs Weasley?' Hermione called back from her bedroom.

'Come downstairs, dear, you have post...'

Hermione's brows shot up and she paused momentarily, a sock in each hand. Who in the world would send her post? Most Ministry letters usually came while she was at work, and not early in the morning via regular owl post.

Anxious to see who had written to her, Hermione swiftly tugged on her socks, slid her feet into slippers, and hurried downstairs to the dining room of the Burrow.

Harry, Ginny, Angelina, and Alicia were already all downstairs. Mrs Weasley was insisting that it was no problem as she heaped scrambled eggs onto Angelina's plate as Hermione entered, and stopped to give her youngest son's girlfriend a warm smile before returning to her fussing.

'Where's Ron?' Hermione asked as she plodded over to where her friends were sitting.

'Upstairs sleeping,' Harry replied promptly. He had one arm slung casually over Ginny's shoulder and was holding a piece of buttered toast in his other hand as he read the Daily Prophet, which was precariously propped up against his mug of hot chocolate

'He's been up all night examining the Lestrange case,' Mrs Weasley explained fondly. 'The poor dear; he hardly ever gets any sleep now.'

Hermione clicked her tongue disapprovingly. 'I told him he didn't need to work on that and that I had it covered,' she sighed as she sat down next to Alicia and began pouring herself some milk.

'Wasn't that Lestrange woman the one who killed Sirius Black?' Alicia asked interestedly, looking up from a book she was reading.

Hermione saw Harry stiffen out of the corner of her eye and said hurriedly, 'Yes, but that was a long while, so there's no point in mentioning it now.'

Alicia shot Hermione a curious look but did not question Hermione's strange behaviour, and returned to her book.

'Anyway,' said Hermione loudly, for Angelina was also looking at Hermione questioningly, 'you said I had post, didn't you, Mrs Weasley?'

'Oh yes, that's right!' exclaimed Mrs Weasley, who seemed to have forgotten in her desire to feed her sons' new wives as much as possible. 'It's on the counter, dear.'

'Thanks,' said Hermione with a quick smile before pushing her chair back and walking over to the counter to retrieve her mail. She did not look at it until she had returned to her seat.

'Who's it from?' said Ginny, her round brown eyes gleaming with curiosity as she absently played around with Harry's hair.

Hermione shrugged and unfolded the letter. Her heart skipped a beat when she read the words 'To my pen pal' handwritten across the top of the page.

'I - I'm going to go upstairs for a little bit to - er - read this,' Hermione stuttered, standing up abruptly. 'I'll see you guys later.'

The five others in the room said good-bye to Hermione, and she walked back up the crooked stairs of the Burrow towards her room. As she made her way upwards, Hermione couldn't help but let a smile spread across her face.

Her heart was thumped furiously against her ribcage at the very thought of finally finding out something about her assigned partner. She felt like she was a little girl again, sitting under the Sorting Hat and waiting breathlessly for her fate to be told to her.

When Hermione finally reached her room, she sat down on her bed and unfolded the letter again, nearly ripping it in her haste. Once she had it spread out in front of her, she began to read it.

To my pen pal,

I was surprised to receive a letter from you so early. I'm slightly pleased about it, though, because writing a reply gives me an excuse to get my mind off of other things. I like your nickname idea, and after a long time thinking about it, I decided to make mine 'Shadow'. There's a rather long story behind it, but since there's not much I feel like I can tell you right now (perhaps there will be more to discuss in later letters), I figure I might as narrate it to you.

There really is no specific event the name is based off of. Basically, all my life I've lived as a shadow. It started the day I was born. My father passed on his worst qualities to me, as did my mother. Growing up, I hardly even felt like a full person - just a shadow of my parents. Because of it, it feels like all I can do is stay as far away from the sun as possible. Wherever light moves, I move in the opposite direction. It's a bit like I'm running away from the better side of the world, because the dark side is the only place I can relate to. I seek the comfort and mindlessness of what I've grown up in. Complicated, isn't it? In short, you could classify me as one of those people who grew up in a snobby, pure-blood family but decided it wasn't the life for him.

Unlike you, I'm having a hard time with this challenge. I'm not the kind of person who wears his heart on his sleeve. I guess that's part of the reason why I have never once in my life confided my thoughts to anyone, not even a journal. I've always assumed that I could just handle all of it on my own, and to be honest, I have. Knowing that I'm the only one out there who is fully aware of who I am gives me a sense of security. But now that I've started this letter, it feels almost nice to get it all on paper and know that someone who won't judge me for what they see will be reading it.

The man you referred to sounds like someone I'm very close with. We're not friends, but I know him very well. You're right in your speculation - it probably is because of his parents that he's turned out the way he is or was. Please, if we happen to be thinking about the same person, don't pity him. I'm sure he would take your sympathy as an insult, as kindly meant as it is. At the same time, though, don't believe he's the person you think he is. After knowing him for many years, I can assure you that there are, like for you, sides of him that he rarely shows.

Well, since you told me two bits of information about yourself, it would only be fair for me to do the same. Of course, you already know one - the story of my nickname. The second? Well, your mention of watching the snow reminded me of something I love to do which is very similar to that: I love to watch the rain. To stand next to a window and watch the rain fall heavily, drenching everything on the ground beneath it...Believe it or not, that's one of my favourite pastimes. There's something so powerful in the fact that although one raindrop is miniscule and will barely even move a flower, a thousand raindrops can drown it. I suppose it's rather romantic if you think about it long enough.

Merlin's beard, it's already 4AM. Seeing as you also work in the Ministry, I hope you'll understand why I have to cut this letter short. I haven't slept in a few days due to projects that have kept me up all night, so I should probably get some rest tonight. I'll send this by owl post right now, so hopefully you should receive it in the morning.

Sincerely, Shadow

A thrill of excitement coursed down Hermione's spine and raised the little hairs on the back of her neck as she reread the letter. She had never read a more tragic or mysterious story, and she felt genuine sympathy for this man who had experienced such a sad childhood.

Then, another thought occurred to her: He was a pure-blood. And yet...he had not showed any sign of disgust at the fact that his pen pal was a Muggle-born. In fact, he had mentioned that he had turned away from this sort of life.

Now eager to reply, Hermione slid open her nightstand drawer. However, before she could extract a sheet of parchment, she heard Ron calling her name.

'Hermione, get down here, we have to get to work!'

Hermione gasped out loud. She had forgotten she had work that day. Hastily, she stuffed the letter into one of her robes pockets and stood up. Thoughts of replying to the letter flew out of her mind as she scrambled into more formal shoes and hurried downstairs.

---

'Don't forget to -'

'Label all of them, yes I know ...'

'Right, and remember that you only have -'

'Four hours...I haven't forgotten, Harry, so you can calm down...'

Harry grinned sheepishly. 'Sorry, I just really want to -'

'Spend a peaceful night with Ginny?' Hermione suggested, smiling knowingly.

'You really know me too well,' marvelled Harry, shaking his head slightly. 'But anyway, everything should be on my desk. Work in my office; it's much quieter in there than it is in the main office.'

Hermione nodded. 'Have fun with Ginny tonight, Harry.'

'I will,' said Harry as he grabbed his cloak and slipped it on. As he turned to leave, he added over his shoulder, 'By the way...thanks, Hermione. I really owe you one.'

'Don't be silly, I'm glad to do this for you,' said Hermione soothingly as she ushered Harry out the door. 'Just enjoy yourself.'

When the door had closed behind Harry, Hermione sighed with relief and made her way to Harry's office. Might as well get started on filing those records, she thought to herself as she seated herself in Harry's chair and scanned the papers scattered on his desk.

The first thought that entered her mind was that Harry's desk was extremely messy in an organised sort of way. Memos, letters, and official documents were all sorted into their respective piles, but placed in a way that only Harry could decipher easily. There were pictures of Ginny, Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, and various Quidditch teams all arranged around two especially large photos: the original Order of the Phoenix, and its successor.

Unable to stand the thought of working at such a cluttered desk, Hermione began to clean things up and arrange them in a more orderly fashion. So absorbed was she in this task that she didn't notice when the door behind her opened and clothes.

Several minutes after the visitor had entered, Hermione finally turned around and found, to her shock, Draco Malfoy standing behind her, observing her silently. A hand immediately flew up to her throat and she gasped quite audibly.

'You scared me!' she accused, still breathing hard from the fright she had received when she saw Draco.

'I apologise,' he said stiffly. 'I was hoping to find Potter here, but apparently he's not present. Do you mind telling him I dropped by?'

'N-no,' Hermione stammered, caught off guard by Draco's brisk attitude. She glanced at him warily. He looked dreadful; there were dark circles underneath his eyes and his complexion more pallid than ever, making his scars all the more prominent. 'He'll be in later tonight.'

'Very well, I'll come back in a few hours then.'

'What was it that you needed?' asked Hermione quickly as Draco turned to leave.

Draco turned around slowly and drawled, 'I wanted my ink bottle back.'

'Your ink bottle?'

'Yes, that's what I said,' said Draco, rolling his eyes. 'It's carved out of crystal and has a--'

'I have it here,' interrupted Hermione, holding up her hand. Incidentally, she had just been moving the small, round ink bottle with a four-pointed star engraved on its surface to a new location.

'Thank you,' said Draco flatly. He took the ink bottle out of Hermione's hand and tucked it into his robes pocket. For a moment, his grey eyes lingered on Hermione's; then, he swiftly turned around and left the office.

Hermione frowned as she watched Draco's back disappear. That was odd.

However, Hermione did not dwell on what had just happened, for the image of the star on the ink bottle had given her a wonderful idea for the nickname she could use with her pen pal: Starlight.