A Dragon Has No Heart

Rain pelts the steam train as it chugs down the old tracks, but the reliable old engine keeps going on, despite the storm. People frown out the window, unhappy about the prospect of disembarking from the train in this weather. To the other travelers one girl seems even more upset at the prospect then really necessary. The tears on the chestnut-haired woman's face mingle with the rain on the window, so that when you look at it you can't be sure which was which.

The large woman sitting across from her watches the young woman cry, but the train stops and she leaves, leaving the girl. The young woman is unaware of any of this as she stares out through the rain at the rolling hills that speed by.

Eventually she shifts and you watch her hair fall into her face. Her thin, white hand goes to her face, she feels the wetness there, and she seems shocked, as if she has not noticed that she is crying. Your heart wretches and you wish to wipe away her tears. She quickly fishes a handkerchief out of her small purse and dried her brown eyes. You know that handkerchief. She twists the white handkerchief around her fingers and then stares at the embroidery on the corner. She stares at the green initials sewn on it and falls into memories. You scrutinize the look on her face, and you know what she is remembering. You remember it too.

~*~

The flood of tears had overcome her while she was studying for her OWL's in the library. Horribly embarrassed she buried her face in her arms, knocking over her bottle of scarlet ink and her head shot up quickly. She bent over her bag, sniffling, digging for a rag that she had left over from her Potions class earlier that day.

She mopped up the ink, and wiped the tears on her sleeve, trying once again to concentrate on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, How can the twelve uses of dragon's blood can counteract a Weakening curse?

Dragons... the half-stifled flow of tears came again and she relented and let them. This is where you come into this unhappy picture.

You were the only one in your house to take NEWT level Arithmancy and thus you were the only one in the library studying for the upcoming test that Professor Vector announced that day. You weren't sure why you were pulled to the table where this girl sat apparently bent over her essay, concentrating.

You know that red hair, despite the fact that you can not see her face, and you know how you feel about her. However the other tables were full of annoying little first and second years and there is not a chance that you would ever have sat anywhere near them.

So you sat at the opposite end of the table from her and dug out your Arithmancy book, and didn't look anywhere in her general direction. Several moments later an annoying sniffling sound reached your ears.

You looked up and saw that the girl was not concentrating on her essay, but she was crying. You scoffed at the weakness this shows and turned back to your Arithmancy problem. A second later you winced as sniffled again.

"Shut up, would you?" you spat in her direction. She looked up at you with red, swollen eyes and glared, but wiped her eyes on her sleeve and began to write her essay. You turned back to your work as well, but not five minutes later she was crying again.

You gritted your teeth and grunted in her direction, "Would you stop?"

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting your concentration?" she asked bitterly.

You were surprised by this retort, but you snarl, "Yes. What's wrong anyway? Break a nail?" she glared at you again and you were unwillingly drawn in by the pain that you saw in her eyes, just for a second you regretted your remark, but you let that feeling go quickly.

"No," she finally answers you, "for your information my brother's dead." She turned back to her essay, and you were speechless. That you had not expected.

You did not even suspect that something like this was the cause of her sorrow, you weren't going to say anything, you turned back to your essay, but something nagged at you until you drawled, "Well, you have enough of them to replace him don't you?" To your irritation this led her to more tears, "Oh dry up," you scoffed and she did not answer.

You both turned back to your work for so long that it startled you when she spoke, "It's not as if you'd know anything about it anyway."

"My father is in Azkaban," you offered, indignantly.

It was her turn to scoff, "And that's exactly the same, especially with your father," she said sarcastically, flipping her hair out of her face.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" you asked threateningly, but she was not shaken.

"It means that your father being in Azkaban is not the same as m brother being- dead." she said the last part quietly, and you see the tears forming in her eyes, and you watch as she holds them back.

"Just because of who I am you think that I don't miss my father?" you asked her, anger coursing through your veins, you didn't know why you were taking to her, but you continued, "I do."

She sighed, "Okay, maybe I spoke harshly," she conceded, "but your father deserved it." She stared at you with tears stuck in her eyes and said more vehemently, "He deserved it." You searched for words as she lowered her eyes to her paper, "My brother didn't," a solitary tear fell out of her eye and dripped on to the paper, smearing the ink.

You rolled your eyes at the tears, but dig into your pocket for the handkerchief that you kept in there. You leaned over the table and hand it to her. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

Neither of you talked until she cast Scourgify on the handkerchief, and handed it back to you, "Here, thank you." she said.

You wave your hand and a few blots of ink splay from the eagle feather quill you held, "Don't bother, I have plenty and your family probably couldn't afford it." She blushed with fury and stalked out of the library. You followed her with your eyes the entire time.

~*~

Now she dabs at her eyes and puts the piece of cloth back in her purse and you want to go over and hold her tightly. She stares out the window once again and you watch as she absent-mindedly twirls her hair around her fingers. You long to take her hand and hold it, but you content yourself with watching as she lets the piece of hair go, it falls back against her shoulder, now curled into a gentle ringlet.

You are not sure when you fell in love with this girl who is now making your heart ache so, without even having an inkling of an idea what she is doing.

She shifts in her seat again and her wand nearly falls out of her bag. She picks it up and puts it back in, but a pamphlet falls out she picks that up to, and doesn't look at it as she closes up her purse and puts it down on the empty cushioned seat next to her.

You were able to see the pamphlet; it was a Quidditch advertisement for the upcoming World Cup. Her brother is playing in it, for the Chuddley Canons. Quidditch brings forth another memory into your consciousness, of the day that you first became aware that you loved her.

~*~

The match was Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw so neither of you were playing; you decided to watch the spectacle anyway, deciding that it might be worth a laugh to see that soft Chang girl go up against that Smith disgrace. Crabbe and Goyle were serving a detention because they had beaten up a first year on your orders, the buffoons weren't supposed to get caught.

You sat down on the bleachers and sneered at the cheering Hufflepuffs sitting on the row below you, you sneered at them and someone beside you muttered, "Can't they just shut up?"

You recognized her voice, and turned surprised to see her next to you, "I am surprised to hear you say that," you said only half-sarcastically.

She met your eyes and you saw the specks of pain in them, and maturity, "What did you think?" she asked you, "That I was just an innocent little girl, who let my brothers lead my life?"

You shrugged then turned away from her, feeling as if you are being too nice scowl and say, "You flatter yourself if you think I pay that much attention to you."

"Well it seems to me that that is how I seem to everyone," she shot back, not missing a beat, "even prats like you."

This stung, but you did not let her see such a weakness, "The way I see it you've got a pretty little name for yourself."

She snorted, "Yeah, with five others all more important than I am."

You chuckled, "Lovegood, more important than you? Right."

"Why, that's the nicest phrase you've ever uttered to me," she says with false shock. "You may be a decent person yet."

"Don't count on it," you said gruffly, but to your shock she laughed and you felt the corners of your thin lips tugged up into a faint smile, though you tried to force them down.

She kept the act up, "Is that a smile I see? I'm positively scandalized. All of this time I thought people from your family were statues I'll have to report this to the Quibbler, what a headline, eat your heart out Rita Skeeter." You were laughing quietly despite yourself, despite the thoughts that you were acting like an idiot.

She grinned at you and her eyes sparkled, you found that you liked that sparkle and the grin, revealing her perfect white teeth, but you realized as you kept staring at her that her front tooth is chipped slightly, you found that this made you like her smile more.

But then you suddenly became aware that you were smiling and laughing, with a Gryffindor, and this was strictly forbidden. You quickly wiped the happiness from your face and turned away from her. You missed the crestfallen look on her face.

You kept thinking about that afternoon for weeks afterward, and you felt yourself watching her during meals, you are still embarrassed at the time you walked into Potter when you were watching her in the halls.

You did not have another afternoon such as this before the summer came. You wandered around your manor like a single Every Flavor Bean in a box, while your mother went to various engagements. Your father escaped from Azkaban that summer, and he began to bring you into his circle of supporters of the Dark Arts. You tried to be as enthusiastic about as you once had been, but her face popped up in your mind, her face when her brother was killed by a man like your father.

When you returned to school you sought her out, but she just as pointedly avoided you. Finally you grabbed her arm one day in the hall.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed at you.

"I, er," your face flushed and you are infuriated at the lack of control you have, "I want to speak to you, meet me in the trophy room tonight." You then let her go, and snuck out that night under the Invisibility Cloak your father bought you.

You waited half an hour for her, and you were about to leave, furious that she would stand you up like this, when she appeared before you, swooping off a cloak identically to your own. "I didn't think your family could afford an Invisibility Cloak," you sneered.

"We can't, I borrowed this from Harry."

"Potter? Well that's good to know, he has an Invisibility Cloak."

She narrowed her eyes at you, "I had half a mind not to meet you, when you ordered me like that, don't push me."

You laughed derisively but if you admit it you were just a tiny bit intimidated "Fine. I won't tell anyone that Potter has an Invisibility Cloak." You hated making this concession, but you were concentrating more on the fiery look in her eyes.

"And I won't tell anyone that you are blushing."

"I am not blushing," you protested furiously.

She grinned impishly at you, "Yes you are, you're so pale it's easy to tell, even under wand-light. So why did you want to meet me?"

You stared down at your shoes as you said, "I've been thinking about you since that day in the Quidditch stadium."

She arched a red eyebrow, "You've been thinking about me?"

You nodded and swallow, your mouth was suddenly dry, and it took a minute for you to finally be able to speak. "That's right. You've bewitched me or something!"

She laughed and you blushed further, "I bewitched you that's rich. That's really rich."

"Alright," you conceded, "perhaps you didn't bewitch me. But, you-you," You were lost for words, how do you describe what this girl has done? Unable to express your feelings, you kissed her.

She pulled away from you, obviously confused, "What the bloody hell was that?" she burst out.

You backed away from her and stare at a nearby trophy, "I- er- that is-" You scowled at your feet, why did you have to stutter then? No one in your family stuttered! Summoning up the courage that comes with your family name you turned back to her, "I think I'm in love with you."

~*~

She was so astonished that day, she had said she would see you later and left the room. Eventually she had come around, and you both had fallen in love.

Now you stand here, watching her longing for you, you want to go to her, but you can't. It is not your place anymore. You slide into your cushioned train seat, unbidden tears coming to your eyes as well, but you quickly banish them, you don't cry; not anymore, not since that day so long ago.

You peek around the seat in front of you again, watching her fingering the ring that she wears on a chain around her neck. You gave her that ring over Christmas the year that you two fell in love, and she swore that she'd never take it off. She hasn't that you know of, even though she cannot love you anymore.

~*~

You always met in the Room of Requirement, she knew when it was free, since she was in that infernal group of Potter's, she would give you looks at breakfast on the days you could meet, looks that made you want her and that would torture you throughout the day.

No one knew about your romance, no one could, though your family disowned you the summer before, hers would kill the both of you before they would allow the two of you to be together, there was too much of a rivalry for your love to fix the rift, and so you hid it. This had its consequences.

There was someone else, someone who her family would rather that she fell in love with, someone that could provide for her without scorn, or suspicion. The two of you were in love, but your love would not have been accepted.

She was crying before you arrived in the Room of Requirement, sitting on the floor, which was always carpeted when you were there, though when she arrived first it was red, and when you got there first it was green. When she heard you come in though she gave you a watery smile, and you took her in your arms.

"What's wrong?" you asked her, kissing her tears away.

She turned her face away from you and stared into the fire that was also a fixture of the room, "I-I- love you, you know."

"Of course I do, I love you too." You sensed a but coming, and you braced yourself.

"But, I can't do this anymore." she fiddled with the ring that you had given her for Christmas, "I love you more than life itself, but I-my parents wouldn't accept us. I can't be on the outs with my family now, not with my brother still not speaking to them." She turned to you, her chocolate eyes filled with tears. "I love you so much, but I can't love you."

Every one of her words- every letter - hit your heart like a hammer and your heart was smashed into millions of pieces. You stare at her, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, horrible things come to your mind, things that you want to call him and her, but the control loving her had given you kept you from saying them.

Instead a tear rolled down your cheek, tears symbolized disgrace for your family but at that moment you didn't care, all you cared about was her.

She was unable to meet your eyes and you swallowed several times before croaking, "Do you love him?"

"No," she said, "No, not really, but I'll have to, won't I?"

That soothed your heart the smallest bit at least she didn't truly love him. You kissed her on the cheek one final time and left the room, slamming the door behind you.

You saw them later, around the school, looking happy, but it gave you a slight satisfaction to see a hollow look in her eyes when she kissed him, it made you feel better, and yet it ripped your heart out again.

To others you became colder, meaner, though you were working for the light side, occasionally during meetings of the resistance she would give you looks across the room, looks that made you long for her although you couldn't have her.

When Potter vanquished Voldemort she was there to heal his wounds, and though you were knocked out for a day and a half, with a broken arm you received basic care from a medi-witch with a hair-lip.

~*~

You hadn't seen her since the grand gala commemorating the defeat of the Dark Lord, seen her clinging to his arm smiling in the candle light. You had slink in the back of the room, drinking heavily to the toasts and Apperated home as soon as you could.

Now here you were on this train with her and you were the reason she was crying, she had glanced you on the platform, and without meaning to you had sneered at her. It was a sneer with a life of its own, and you had seen it puncture her.

Now you stand from your seat, feeling the rocking of the steadily moving train beneath your feet, slowly you walk toward her. It seems like it takes an eternity for you to walk up the aisle, past the two rows separating you, but you make it.

You reach out a shaking hand and put it on her shoulder, she looks up at you and her breath catches in her throat. She murmurs your name and you smile at her and plant a kiss on her red lips.

"We can't do this," she protests, "he's meeting me and riding on from the next stop." You are disappointed by this, but don't want to let it stop you.

You slid into the seat next to her and kiss her again your lips meet as if it hasn't been three years since you last kissed, as if all the heart break hasn't happened. You kiss and all the problems go away. "I love you," you tell her.

She smiles at you, devilishly, "I know." The grin fades and she glances out the window, you are nearing the next station, "You know that we can never do this again."

You nod, and kiss her once more. When you come apart you gaze at her for minute, unable to avert your eyes until you feel the train stop. You look out the window and see him walking towards the train. You watch as he dries his wet traveling cloak with his wand and folds it over his arm.

Then you walk to the back of the compartment as he enters. He walks confidently over to her, "How are you darling? Have a good journey?"

"Fine." she answers smiling at her, they kiss and you clench your fists. Though your stop is two towns away you disembark at the next station. You turn and look at the train, she waves at you slightly, sadly, but you turn away, it is too painful. You are not allowed to have your love, but she is happy. That is what matters to you.

After all you are heartless to most people, only she knows your not, and even she can't help you. As the train chugs away you scowl, and sit on a bench to wait two hours for the next one. A young child and his mother sit next to you and the boy, no older then six, stares at you for a minute. You glare at him and he retreats to the other side of his mother.

She glances at you, where you sit aloof, as if determined not to let this filthy train station reflect back on you, a pure-blood wizard disgusted with all of the 'new' things modeled on Muggles that your family despises. She cannot guess your true pain you sit as frozen as a statue.

"Don't mind 'im my darling, 'e's a Malfoy. Malfoy's don't got no 'eart. Why I went to school with one of 'em. Right old prat, 'e was, Name of Drago I think. Sommut like that; anyways my dear, them and the Blacks bad through an' through. I tell ya. That Bellatrix Black, she done cursed your grandmummy once..."

You stopped listening to the woman's endless prattle; sometimes the gossip of these lower class wizards amuses you, but not today. Today you know she is wrong. You have a heart, because it is breaking.

You don't want to dwell on this so you listen to the woman and her child again. "Mummy, tell me an 'Arry Potter one!"

"Ah, that one, 'e's a different breed me luv, yes indeed." The child is rapt, but your fists clench. Oh yes the wonderful Harry Potter. You wish that you could have Apperated on this trip, but Apperition between countries is forbidden. Your business meeting was in Wales, and now you're just too tired to Apperate.

You listen to the mother until her child falls asleep, then the train comes.

Once you are home you order the House-elf to get you a bottle of Firewhiskey, you sit on the sofa with it and stare into the fire. You drink for a bit then decide. You can't let this affect you, you are a Malfoy, you are ice. You have no heart. Although you would like to cry you do not.

The next time you see her, a long time after, you scowl and hiss, "Look it's the Weasel." You look at the young child clinging to her arm. "Oh? Breeding already?"

You stalk off before she can see in your eyes the pain you feel. You are a Malfoy, you have no heart.