Immoral In Devotion Skies

CHAPTER THREE: Prevail Over Dark Memories

Memory, turn your face to the moonlight
Let your memory lead you
Open up, enter in
If you find there the meaning of what happiness is
Then a new life will begin

Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

Cats "Memory"

Hermione walked along the road of one of London's paved streets, unsure of how the rest of the day's events would take their toll. The start of the day had already evolved into something she'd least expected to happen: after all she had only gone to Diagon Alley to buy a book that morning; now she was walking along a paved street with the man she'd helped declare innocent in a trial a few years ago. They were now walking to Costa, a Muggle coffee shop; Hermione had been hesitant of the suggestion at first because he'd been a deep hater of anything Muggle and Muggle-borns, including her, some years ago. Why had he come?

Hermione turned to face Draco and asked him, "Why are you here with me? Why are you coming to a Muggle coffee shop?"

Draco looked at her slightly bemused and laughed bitterly. "The War changed and killed too many people for its own good. I guess I'm one example of a good change from the War, and I am probably the only one. All that were evil are dead and all that were good are now bitter and consumed with grief. Look at you, for example."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

Draco laughed again with the same resentment. "We may not have been the best of friends except - except...never mind. Anyway, I know what you were like as a person back in Hogwarts and now...look at when we were in Flourish and Blotts. You've changed tremendously and I truly believe you were happy once and believed in a lot of things that you don't anymore."

Hermione gave him a strange smile. It was unnerving how Draco seemed to see right inside her when they hadn't seen one another for such a long period. She looked at him and spoke wretchedly. "Maybe I've grown up... I was naïve during my time at Hogwarts. I thought I was so knowledgeable and witty at the time because I read all my textbooks and I knew the answers to the questions the Professors asked me. I was young and foolish. I once believed in love, in romance and in soul mates. But look at everyone in this world! Look at the War! Can two people really be perfect for each other? I know nobody is perfect, but to kill another person goes beyond all human reasoning. Those who fought Voldemort were as bad as those who helped him because both sides killed each other... Love cannot exist in such a society. It's impossible."

Draco looked up at the bright, turquoise, cloudless sky. "Love does exist. It exists because it has to, like a daisy that manages to grow from a crack in the pavement. For one extreme, there is must be the opposite. People need people. A world of good cannot exist without a world of evil, Hermione, and love is not based on society. It's a personal matter."

Hermione pondered what he said for a moment, then she realised the meaning behind his comment. She gawped at him incredulously. "You? You of all people believe in love? You have never believed in love! You've never shown any compassion to anyone! Except maybe once but - but that doesn't count...that was a long time ago."

Draco tore his eyes away from the sky and gazed at Hermione. "I never used to believe in love, but I do now. Like I said, the War changed many people. Remember my trial? I think that's when I started to believe in the impossible - in love. I killed people's families, and I knew I killed at least one person's family in that courtroom. Yet my verdict did not reveal itself to be guilty. I did not get thrown back into Azkaban. People showed me my true taste of love, compassion and pity. Those people gave me back my life, a life that enables me to be standing here right now, talking to you, instead of rotting in a cell full of Dementors. I thank all those people, and I thank you. I've always thought your vote was the vote I deserved the least."

Hermione did not speak, for she knew the topic that Draco was talking of - something she had decided to forget a long time ago. It felt odd to know she had made such an enormous difference to his life. She had voted for him to be innocent because she believed that it was true, and Draco was right - he had deserved her vote the least. Hermione glanced down at the pavement watching the tarmac sparkle from the afternoon sun. Her voice hardened. "I've never been in love, though I thought I was at one stage, and I don't think I ever will be. Love maybe alight in you but the flame and hopes have died in me. All love brings is pain and hurt. I cannot go through it all over again. I cannot waste any more time crying over what is lost and dead."

Draco put his hand under Hermione's chin and lifted her head, ignoring how soft her skin felt under his touch, and turned her face to face his. "You will. You will have faith in love again simply because it was inside you once. You will believe and embrace it once again. You will fall in love."

Hermione turned her face away from his; she could not stand to look at those blank, grey eyes, even though they had glittered for a brief second. Speaking with her face turned the other way, she said, "Even if I do fall in love again...I won't admit it. I'll run away. I'm not letting myself endure any more pain. Plus, you cannot tell me what I will do or what will happen. You do not know my destiny."

Draco opened his mouth to speak but closed it as he realised they had reached the Muggle coffee shop, Costa. The building had massive windowpanes as walls on two floors so its customers could observe the crowds on the cemented streets. Tables with umbrellas and chairs were placed outside for other customers who wanted to enjoy the good weather, or to be surrounded by fresh air if they disapproved of the smell of coffee. Draco had a positive feeling about the place and went inside, holding the door for Hermione as he did so - so she could not banter him for having ghastly manners.

Conversation did not resume until both Hermione and Draco had ordered their coffees, which took at least ten minutes, as there was such a long queue. Even when they were seated at a table next to one of the wall-covering windows, they both sat in silence for at least five minutes, sipping their piping hot coffee and lost in their own thoughts.

Draco sat, stirring his Espresso, looking at his surroundings: the dark crimson curtains hung by the windows, the long queues of Muggles waiting for their taste of their daily coffee, the chatter amongst the steaming cups on the tables and the smell of milk and coffee beans. Draco approved of the place; it gave him a sense of a true homelike feel though he'd never experienced one. Especially not now. He lived alone in the Manor with a few house-elves, since his parents had been thrown in Azkaban, though his mother had wasted away last year.

He felt little compassion for his parents; they had brought him up in a hard life: dominated, controlled and he was always expected to fulfil the duty of the son. He loved his mother more than his father, though he regarded his father as a figure of far more importance than his mother. Nevertheless, his mother had grown cold throughout the years, rarely coming to his aid when he was beaten by his father. His father started issuing harsh discipline when he was of an early age. It frightened him at first, as he was so young, but he grew used to it as he grew up. The harshest beating he'd ever endured was when he had refused to become a Death Eater and disapproved of being a Death Eater's son. He made the mistake of telling his father this and was threatened to be burned. However, Voldemort stepped in and said that they could make use of him; that was when the Imperius Curse was used. His father decided that his son would not altogether be a failure then, even if he had to be forced to kill. Both his father and mother were found guilty of this charge in addition to their use of the Cruciatus Curse on the Aurors.

Draco often wondered why he never followed in his father's footsteps to become a Death Eater. Perhaps it was because he hated to be dominated if he knew he did not have to be. Perhaps it was because he knew how ridiculous the Death Eaters looked in their services to their Master, or simply because he knew it was the path that he was not to follow - it was not in his heart to kill. He was not evil, and he never had been. He had made the decision to fight against his father's side, but his father had made sure that hadn't happened. Draco had betrayed the people he was supposed to be helping. Draco laughed cynically to himself.

Hermione jumped, startled by Draco's laugh and watched him. "What are you laughing at?"

Draco's laughter died and he glanced at Hermione. It was unbelievable how everything had changed. Back in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he never would have dreamed he'd been sitting here in a Muggle coffee shop, drinking a Muggle beverage with someone he'd been brought up to look down on. Draco told Hermione his thoughts.

Hermione laughed, her laughter tinkling. "I know."

Eager to change the subject from everything that was in the past, Draco asked her, "What do you do now?"

"I'm a Founder...though that was mainly just after the War. I work as a Emotionalist now."

Draco looked at her mystified. He had heard of her work before; Founders were a new profession brought in to find the survivors of the War, but he had never actually met one. Their profession was fairly high up and they had to work overtime most of the time. Draco enquired, "Do you work for the Ministry, then?"

"Yes, and St. Mungo's - the new one that is," Hermione sniffed as she recalled the memory of seeing the old St. Mungo's being blown up with all its patients inside. She had been with Neville Longbottom at the time, and his cry of anguish of what he was seeing before his eyes haunted her throughout the years. But he was now with his parents, safe and sound, away from the remnants of the destruction of War.

Draco's voice broke into her thoughts, "What do you exactly do?"

Hermione raised the cup to her mouth and took a sip of her Caffé Latte before she started speaking, "Well...after the War, I worked as a Founder, I mainly travelled throughout England finding any survivors of the War. I helped them to pick up the pieces of their life, this is where my Emotionalist profession comes in, and I'd talk to them, help them, listen to them and basically help them get their life back on track. I helped quite a few St. Mungo's patients, that is why I'm joined to the Ministry and St. Mungo's. The Founder profession is a Ministry profession and Emotionalist is much like a Healer, except I deal with emotional wounds rather than physical. It's a rewarding profession and it helped me to deal with my own grief after the War whilst helping the needs of others." Hermione looked at Draco across the table and asked, "What do you do?"

Draco laughed acrimoniously and loudly, his hands cupped round his less than hot coffee and looked outside the window. Realising he'd drawn attention to himself from the other customers, he turned back to face Hermione and muttered, "I've been unemployed for the last few years. Nobody wants to employ a murderer, especially not someone who killed their loved ones."

Hermione placed her hand on Draco's and whispered, "It's not true."

Draco snatched her hand away from Hermione's and said angrily, "How would you know?"

Hermione smiled at him sadly. "Because I do."

Draco glared at her. "You don't know anything! You don't know that I've been living off my parents' money these last few years. Living by myself with a few house-elves. You don't know anything!" he said, irked.

Hermione gaped at him as tears started to fill her eyes. "Don't do this! Don't do this...Draco!"

Draco glowered at her, and sighed irritably, banging his hand on the table triggering some of his coffee to slosh out of the cup, not caring that he was causing a scene. He spoke snappily. "Don't start crying again!"

Hermione scowled at him, stood up furiously, snatched her black jacket of the back of her chair and started to march out of Costa. She would not sit there to endure abuse. She did not care that Draco Malfoy had changed, because right there, right then, his old personality had revealed itself again. He hasn't changed! Who is he trying to kid?

Realising what he had just done, Draco grabbed his own cloak and rushed in between the tables trying to catch up with Hermione. He called her name as he ran, though it made no difference because she refused to acknowledge his cries. When he finally caught up with Hermione, he grabbed her arm and spun her round to face him. Her expression was flustered, and she refused to meet his gaze. Draco grinned as he spoke. "This is the second time today. We really should stop doing this!"

Hermione glared at him and pounded his chest with all her might. "You're so insensitive!"

Draco grimaced through the pain. "Do it, Hermione. Do it, if it makes you feel any better. I deserve it."

At these words, Hermione stopped and watched his empty eyes. She whispered softly with so much kindness that Draco couldn't cope with, "No, you don't."

Shaking his head, Draco protested, "I do - I do...and I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. I'm sorry."

Hermione bit the bottom of her lip. Staring at the floor, she muffled, "You know what I was afraid of back there? You sounded just like you used to. It was as if you had never changed..."

Draco stared at Hermione, horrified, and raised her chin so she was staring directly into his eyes. "Don't listen to him! I'm not like that anymore. I've changed...though it is difficult to squash the person I use to be. I didn't mean to be horrible to you. I really don't want to be like that anymore. I'm sorry..."

Hermione smiled up at him. "It's alright. Everyone makes mistakes."

Draco sighed with relief and repeated again, "I'm sorry."

Hermione pressed a finger to Draco's lips silencing him, and surprising both herself and Draco, she put her arms around him in an embrace. At that moment, Hermione was lost in the warmth of Draco's chest and the beating of his heart on a street of Muggle London.

*

They spent the rest of the Sunday together visiting London's highlights the Muggle way. Treading on the crispy and crunchy fallen golden, red, brown leaves on the ground as they walked. They went to a bridge and looked down at the river and the way the water sparkled as the sunlight caught it; even the horrible, foul smell of the river could not repel Hermione and Draco from its beauty. The afternoon led them into the evening, and they had dinner together in a small nearby Chinese restaurant, in which they both greatly approved of the food.

They enjoyed talking of the past, where they were and what they were doing now and simply enjoying the company of each other in public, like they couldn't have enjoyed years ago at Hogwarts. Draco made Hermione laugh over her sweet and sour chicken with the anecdotes of Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione couldn't prevent herself from laughing when Draco told her how startled he was when he saw Goyle wearing glasses in their second year. He was even more startled when Goyle told him that he was wearing glasses for reading because Draco didn't know Goyle had it in him. However, what Draco did not know was that Hermione was not laughing at the thought of a Goyle wearing reading glasses, but because he had run into Harry disguised as Goyle, due to Polyjuice Potion, at that moment in time.

Hermione told Draco that Ron was now living in Romania with Charlie, the only surviving member of his family. He'd left a week after Draco's trial and hadn't been in touch for the last six months, so Hermione had no idea what Ron was currently doing or whether he was still living in Romania. Hermione deeply missed Ron's letters.

Draco told Hermione of his life without his parents. The fact that he now lived alone and spent endless hours reading and writing about his own life: that he had changed and what had truly happened the night he committed all the murders. He was hoping to get it published one day in hopes that people would give him a chance after reading it. He also occasionally drank himself into a stupor.

Hermione laughed at this comment and told Draco that she had done that regularly right after the War, and especially right after Ron had left when she had felt very much alone.

Soon enough, the sky darkened and they were faced with night and knowing that the day was ending. Draco escorted Hermione back to her house, in Surrey, that was equipped with magical facilities. They stood on Hermione's porch, both aware that they hadn't had such a good time for a while and feeling very much awkward, as conversation had run dry. Hermione opened the door but did not invite Draco in; she felt it was not necessary. She stepped inside and put her head round the door and said, "Thank you for such a nice time to spend a Sunday. I miss the company of a Hogwarts' student. It's late though and I have work tomorrow at the Ministry so I have to be up early. Goodnight." She smiled at him.

Draco stepped off the porch and turned back to look at Hermione, "Goodnight." He smiled back but his smile was crooked, giving him a slight sinister appeal that marred his good looks. "Bye."