The Shadows of His Past

"What?" he spat, masking his surprise at the almost companionable mention of his name.

"I´m sorry," She rocked on the balls of her feet and continued, "About your father." Shattered silence broken by a comforting smile.

"Malfoy..."

His name again. It sounded like shit when she said it. He felt like the lowest being in the world. Guilty by association. He suddenly felt angry, "Shut up, Granger! Just shut up and leave me alone!" A violent storm erupted in his silver eyes, as seething anger brewed within him and settled itself in the pit of his stomach. He needed a source of distraction. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he delved into the layers of fabric- expensive fabric that felt silky to the touch. No wand. Nothing. He cursed his carelessness and impatience. It was still on his writing table, in his dormitory. Why did I have to be in such a bloody rush to get here?

Hermione was again startled by his angry response; she felt the resentment escalate inside her. Her building fury tethered her to the spot where she stood, glowering and emanating the fierce rage that threatened to swallow her from the inside out. "Why Malfoy?" Hermione hissed, "I thought you had it all...loads of money...a powerful, pure-blooded family...Pansy to lick your shoes...Seeker of your House team..."

Draco stared at her, confused. But it didn´t show. He never showed anything. Deep inside he was a morass of bad feeling, cultivated hatred, and shrouded unhappiness. But to Hermione, he was the same. The same thoughtless first year- a preconceived notion of his father, personified in this pale, blonde-haired boy.

Like a dull buzzing in the back of his head he heard her rambling on. But he didn´t want to argue. He was too angry to argue. Draco continued searching his robes for a needed distraction. Something. Anything. His groping fingers struck an object in his pockets- a switchblade. A present from his father. He wanted to fling it into the iron gray depths of the lake, but despite himself his fingers slowly tightened around the smooth ebony handle and traveled up and down the smooth steel, almost lovingly. Somehow, the cold metal reminded him of his Death Eater vows. It made him think that soon the blade would be put to use.

"I´m a Death Eater, now," Draco smiled, "I have to live my life wiping Muggle-born slime, like you, off this planet." His hands continued fondling the knife. He liked the way the handle adjusted perfectly to the contours of his hand. He slowly began examining it. He ran his fingertip swiftly across the edge of the blade. Bright red blood blossomed from his narrow cut. He wiped it on his robes and examined it again. Ebony, smooth with frequent use. The blade was faintly tinged with pink. Nausea descended upon him.

She glared directly at him. His languid eyes had changed to the gray of clouds before a storm.

"Go to your pathetic little boyfriend, Granger. He can´t handle his own problems so he needs an old man to solve them for him?" he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, but his words were tainted with cynicism that could clearly be heard.

"Yeah, and your way of solving problems is so much better! You´re the pathetic one, you`ve got everything and still Harry manages to beat you every single time."

Draco looked shocked and for a moment, Hermione saw a flicker of emotion behind his veil of self-contained indifference. But his scowl returned quickly and her faltering anger returned with its former fervor.

Hermione scowled, "There`s more than one way to skin at cat." Draco raised his eyebrow. Seeing his look, she added hastily, "Muggle saying." I don`t need a lame `holier-than-thou´ lesson, Granger, so go preach to your crippled pet. "Anyways, Harry and Ron and I are just friends, best friends- of course, but nothing beyond that."

"Rita Skeeter said-"

"Rita Skeeter is an idiot! Harry likes Ch-" she stopped and mentally slapped herself. Why did she have to say that? She decided to divert his attention. "Harry´s got a lot to worry about you know."

Draco smirked and ran a long slender finger atop the smooth surface of his knife. Up. Down. Up. Down.

"He told Cedric to take the trophy- which led him to his death, wouldn´t you feel guilty?" Hermione pointed an accusing finger at him.

You think you´re telling me something I don´t know? The whole school knows about Harry, since that Defense Against Dark Arts lesson...

"Oh, I forgot- you´re the emotionless Malfoy just like dear old daddy."

Draco raised an eyebrow again and turned away from her. Turn your back on the world that has turned its back on you.

Hermione looked furious. "Listen to me! You-" but the rest was muted as he concentrated on the knife. He simply didn´t care. The blade. Focus on the blade. "You-!" Won´t that stupid Mudblood shut up? The blade. The handle. The contours. The shape. The sharpness. He still didn´t turn around when he heard her stomp angrily away. A flash. Lightning. The sky opened up with a thunderous crack- pouring hateful tumults of rain. Rain was nothing. He felt the tiny droplets slide down his skin. Chilling him.

Hermione looked back, and scowled at the glacial calm on his pale face. She turned around and smirked at Draco, "You know your not your father! Do you really want to be like him?" And the unasked question, Do you want to end up like him? ...Cold and stiff. Open gray eyes and a face frozen in the first real smile Draco had ever seen on his father, Good night Lucius...

In the shadows of the trees, crouched a figure writing in a notepad with strange urgency. She smiled as her long red fingernails ran across the surface of a lock of smooth black hairs. Seeing the girl leave, she toyed with the wand, wondering if she should use it. Hearing a noise coming from the direction of Hagrid´s hut, the shadow darted deeper into the veiled darkness of the forest.

****

Harry and Ron walked down to Hagrid´s hut, light-heartedly swapping ideas on Gryffindor´s chances for the House Cup. Each laugh was hollow because no amount of revelry could banish the image of an emaciated Hermione, weighted down with worry.

As they reached the door, they paused. What was rustling the bushes behind Hagrid´s hut? Slowly, they made their way around the wooden cabin, skirting the house, nervously. Harry gasped. The engorged pumpkins of which Hagrid was so proud lay in rotting ruins about their tangled vines. Ron looked at Harry and said, half-jokingly, "Harry, I´m scared."

Harry looked around the garden uneasily, "Of course. I don´t know what Hagrid´s surprise is either." He picked up a piece of pumpkin the size of a Quaffle and whistled. "What kind of monster could have done this?" Harry heard a rustling coming from the bush behind him. "Whatever it is- it´s behind me isn´t it?" Harry was afraid to turn around. Oh damn.

Ron did not respond. He had his eyes tightly closed and the hand that gripped his wand was slippery with sweat. Harry heard him mumble, "Please don´t let it be another giant spider. Not a giant spider..."

Huge thundering steps shook the ground beneath Harry as his grip slowly tightened around his wand. He turned around and yelled, "Impedimenta!" pointing it blindly in the direction of the noise. Silence. He opened his eyes.

Hagrid stood, frozen in his tracks. "Uh...sorry Hagrid."

"S´okay, mate. I´m jus´ lucky it wasn´ anythin´ like instant scalpin´." Hagrid looked slightly edgy and ran his hand through his cropped mane. "Right then! I s´pose yeh bin wonderin´ what the surprise is, eh?" He straightened himself from his rather uncomfortable position with a groan and motioned towards his cabin. "Help yerself teh some rock cakes."

Harry and Ron gave him identical strained smiles and politely began nibbling on the edge of his rock cakes.

Hagrid turned around with three cups of steaming tea and grinned broadly. "C´mon eat up, it´s a new recipe from Olympe." He blushed.

Harry pushed away his barely-eaten rock cake and began brusquely, "Hagrid, we need to talk to you, about Hermione." Ron looked up from his half-finished cup of tea and hastily put the steaming mug down.

"´Righto." Hagrid untied his apron and sat down at the table, his brow slightly furrowed. Ron and Harry looked at each other and exchanged identical looks of frustration, where should we start?

"She´s been up late at night...."

"...I think I saw her crying in the library."

"She´s not telling us what´s wrong!"

"I heard Lavender and Parvati saying that Hermione woke up screaming..."

"You ought to see her- she´s nothing!"

"Yeah, she´s just wasted away."

"We´ve got to do something!"

"She´s been feeling awful. I don´t know what´s wrong with her!"

Harry held out his hand to stop Ron from continuing. "And I found this- she´s been burning something in fireplace." He reached into his pockets and pulled out a charred fragment of parchment with a small scribble of ...something written in bright green ink.

Hagrid looked very serious. "I dunno Harry. You say you saw her burnin´ this," he held up the parchment fragment, "more then once?" he held the scrap of parchment up to the light and saw a portion of the watermark- it was an `o´.

"I don´t know what exactly she was burning, just that I´ve seen her up late in the Common Room- and that her reasons for being there are lies."

Ron shrugged, "Muggle trouble?"

Harry shook his head. "That wouldn´t explain why she´s upset over here..."

Hagrid sighed, "Whatever `tis, it´s in those papers she´s bin burnin´."

"Bad news?"

"Then why would she keep getting them?"

"Well, if it has something to do with Muggles I can´t exactly help..."

"Yeh should try," Hagrid growled at Ron, "I remember a coupla years back..."

"Hey! That was different- that was a Firebolt!" They both look to Harry, who had remained silent for some time. He sighed.

"Yeah, I think it´s Muggle trouble," Harry paused, "someone´s threatening Hermione."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Hey, what was that?" From Hagrid´s pumpkin patch, a growling sound came and a splat that showed more of Hagrid´s prize pumpkin´s were being destroyed.

"Ah...that would be yer s´prise." Slowly Hagrid opened the door. "Cute little bugger, in´t he?"

"AHHHHH!" Ron screamed, running into the farthest corner of the wooden cabin and drawing out his wand, "Get it away!"

Harry laughed and tossed the remains of his rock cake at it. Before he knew what was coming, he felt sharp claws digging into his thick winter cloak. "Ahh! Get it off!" Sparks flew like tongues of flame at the small darting animal, but it easily avoided his hexes. "Stupefy!" he shouted, pointing his wand at the creature, but only succeeded in stunning Hagrid.

****

Harry Potter was beaten by a knarl.

And Ron was sick and tired of listening to Harry bemoan the fate of his beloved cloak. "Hey, I know what´ll cheer you up- visiting Dobby in the kitchens!"

Harry´s face brightened at the thought of treacle tarts after dinner hours and began making his way with Ron towards the kitchens.

"Hey Dobby!" Harry cried as he entered the kitchens, but before he could react he felt a tight grip around his waist nearly forcing him back out through the painting entrance. "Erm... nice to see you too, Dobby," he said as best as he could with the wind nearly knocked out of him. Gently as he could, he pried Dobby´s thin arms off of him. "So Dobby, how´s it going?"

Dobby; however, appeared not to hear this question. He stood agape at the terrible state of Harry´s cloak. "Dobby will fix that for you right away!" the eager House-elf cried.

Deftly, he unclasped Harry´s cloak and held it out in front of him for all of the House elves to see. There were huge gaping holes the size of a Dobby´s head and only thin strips of black fabric held the whole catastrophe together.

"Harry Potter must not expect his cloak back too soon."

****

Harry had already reached his dormitory when he realized that he hadn´t gotten any treacle tart.