White Noise
Barbara Vance.
In all the world
There's nothing like
The sound of falling snow—
The only noise
I've ever known
That makes the clocks move slow;
The only sound
That sweeps away
The din of city streets;
And wraps around,
In soft embrace,
Most everyone it meets;
A sound that's not
A sound at all-
A quiet, soft and dear,
That comforts all
The sleepy souls
Who sit, and watch, and hear.
—
Christmas day came charging at her head first just as she had suspected it would. It was just under a year to the day that Hermione had erased her parents memory of her and sent them on their way to the other side of the world. There was something so evil in her act, there was something so evil in uprooting a perfectly happy husband and wife. She still swayed between believing it was right and believing it was wrong. The feeling was strange and it clung to her conscience. Hermione was an orphan but only on a technicality, her parents were alive, or so she assumed and hoped they were anyway. She had only ever told Harry, feeling he would understand the most. She was right, any mention of her parents to Ron and the rest of the Weasleys brought an innocent, unknowing smile and queries of their wellbeing. Hermione just had to entertain the family. She didn't know why she felt she had to keep the two things separate.
Christmas day brought a silent tide over the Weasleys. Hermione slowly began to feel like a missing puzzle piece in the family, she thought it morbid to feel closer to people who had lost so much but only feel that way because of what they didn't have anymore. They'd always loved her, but now she was precious cargo to them, she was a daughter, a sister, a cousin, an auntie. She was family, more so now than ever. It felt oddly satisfying to be apart of something so big and warm. Sure, she had her parents growing up and some aunties and uncles here and there but she never had a big unit.
The holidays were never bustling with people, they were never a large group of people chatting and tearing apart a turkey. She would be lying if she said she didn't miss the quaintness of the festivities while she was growing up but she wasn't sure if she favoured them over the crowd of redheads that made Christmas how she'd seen it on the telly. She would never wish the magic away from either of her experiences of Christmas.
She should be happy. She scorned herself for not feeling content because she was safe and she didn't have to keep her wand in a holster on her hip anymore. Hermione knew that she should be grateful that she didn't have to cover her back with countless layers of protective charms but she just felt a numbness that was so unfamiliar to her. So she sat watching the sun come up and snow fall from the sky, a cup of tea warming her hands in her London flat.
"Merry Christmas Crookshanks." She mumbled, the half-kneazle nuzzling his head on her leg. He purrs in response, his eyes falling half shut. Hermione smiles at her cat and takes a drink of her tea. No amount of radio static could fill the silence that occupied her kitchen at that moment until apparitions crack causes Crookshanks to scatter into her bedroom.
There's an unusual silence before Hermione peers into the living room, catching a glimpse of Draco Malfoy looking around her bookshelf. She almost threw her mug at his head, he was the last person on earth that she had expected to see on that morning at that time.
"Malfoy? What on merlin's green earth are you doing here?" She exclaimed, charging at him wand in hand. "How did you get my address?"
Draco's eyes widen before he stands tall in her way. "Potter gave me it. He gave me the usual "Watch your back, Malfoy" spiel and then we got talking and he thought it would be more appropriate to have our meetings here." Draco's use of air-quotes made Hermione squirm a little bit. That was a very muggle thing to have done.
"So neither of you thought to mention that to me?! This is my house!" Hermione fumed, throwing her wand on her coffee table. "Bloody men." She huffed. Draco only managed a croak of laughter.
"Potter said he would, I assume he's still as useless as he has always been." The wizard said indignantly, almost grinning at the chance to get a dig in at Harry Potter once again. Hermione only looked unimpressed which seemed to have knocked him down a few pegs.
"He's just busy is all." Hermione sat down on her sofa and crossed her legs. She stared ahead of her, still feeling completely weird about Draco Malfoy being in her home. "It's rather early for this, Malfoy... and given our last meeting I assumed we wouldn't be continuing."
"Well." Draco clears his throat then, crossing his arms defiantly. "I do need your help, Granger. I don't think anybody else is actually capable of this but you." He sounded sincere so Hermione asked him to sit and made him tea.
They settled back into conversation then, Draco talking painstakingly about his childhood and the relationship, or lack of, he had with his father. Lucius Malfoy was a cruel, cruel man. Hermione couldn't stop herself wincing at some point in the conversation.
"You were right. Unsurprisingly." Draco says suddenly, watching her. "About the war." Hermione only nods her head and flashes a small smile.
"I know." She tells him, shrugging her shoulders. The last thing she wanted to do was argue with Draco today but she couldn't deny that she was right when she was right. "I'm always right." She said with a bigger smile. Draco just shook his head.
It was a funny thing. She felt that she should be ashamed of herself, sitting with him, laughing with him, helping him. He watches her closely, as though he is waiting for her to change the world. She could, if she tried hard enough... If she wanted to. The shame leaves her quickly, isn't that how the other side felt about her? Even being within a metre's distance of her warranted them to make a comment about how they should shower because they were so near her filth. She shook her head. Draco probably thought she had gone mad by now, sitting silently, warring inside her own head.
"It should be fairly easy to get your father put away." Draco shuddered at her abruptness but which other way was she meant to have put it? Hermione continues, "It's got nothing to do with me. What you think is that the Ministry will bow in my favour because they think I'm some kind of war heroine. Malfoy, I can assure you that I harmed and probably killed too." He finds himself speechless again.
"I'm not here to berate you, Granger. I'm here to save my mother. You don't understand, he's laying it on thicker and thicker everyday. He's locked her in rooms, hidden her wand, he's set fire to her garden." Draco's voice cracks. "She's broken and the only way I'll get her back is if he's gone." He looks to the floor. Hermione sniffs.
"When is the hearing?" She asks him, she wasn't sure where her compassion had come from.
"March twenty-eighth" He tells her, pleading with her but only with the tone of his voice. "Is that enough time?"
"Yes. It's plenty of time." Hermione nods and sighs. "I'm just worried about your mum surviving until then."
ESTÁ A LER
silent devotion ; dramione
Fanfic"Hermione" His voice cut through her silence and she shivered, the sound was made of pure gold. "I missed you" The witch whispered, and she brought her hands to either side of his neck, and peace shattered her bones. She couldn't quite believe that...
