Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Heart and Soul ❯ Chapter Twenty-Two ( Chapter 22 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Heart and Soul
By: Tassana Burrfoot


Chapter Twenty-Two



Hermione was gone. She had chosen another and had moved on with her life.

Draco could feel nothing but a hollow shell where he knew his heart had once been. He knew he deserved it. He had done so many horrible things since they got together... No, he had done so many horrible things since he had met her.

A tug on his arm brought him back to reality. "They've gone!" Goyle said as Crabbe yanked on Draco's sleeve. "They've gone into that room. Malfoy, you gotta get us in there!"

A resolve came over Draco. So, that was her choice. That was her decision. He would not give her up without a fight.

Getting into the room had not been difficult. Draco had done it countless times last year. He heard Potter's voice and followed it. He would continue with what Snape had said. He would help Potter retrieve these objects. Horcruxes, diadems, whatever they were.

But, first, he had to play the part. After all, Crabbe and Goyle were on either side of him.

"Hold it, Potter," he called out, pointing his wand at Potter as the dark haired boy turned around. "That's my wand you're holding, Potter."

"Not anymore," Potter jeered. "Winners keepers, Malfoy. Who lent you theirs?"

Draco was seething, but he responded, "My mother."

He stared at the face he hated. How was he supposed to help this boy? What was a diadem? He'd never heard of such a thing.

"So, how come you three aren't with Voldemort?" Potter asked, causing an involuntary shudder to go down Draco's back.

Draco knew Potter was trying to stall for time, so he paid little attention to Crabbe's answer. Instead, he searched the area with his eyes, trying to find the diadem. What did it look like? What had Potter been about to take?

"So, how did you get in here?" Potter questioned.

Draco scoffed, "I virtually lived in the Room of Hidden Things all last year. I know how to get in."

The sound of Weasley's voice made Draco's stomach turn. He wanted to hex the low life red-head. Crabbe had gotten there first, but Harry stopped the disaster.

"No!" Draco shouted, grabbing Crabbe's arm before he could repeat the spell. "If you wreck the room, you might bury this diadem thing." And risk Potter not finding it, he added silently to himself.

"What's the matter?" Crabbe snapped, wrenching his arm free. "It's Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum?"

Draco shot the dunderhead a scathing glare. He growled, "Potter came in here to get it, so that must mean..."

"Must mean?" Crabbe interrupted. Draco could tell he had finally lost his authority even before the imputant gorm snarled, "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished!"

Several things happened at once. Weasley had spoken again. Potter had made a go at something. Crabbe threw a Cruciatus Curse at Potter. Draco knocked Crabbe's arm, causing the curse to miss Potter and hit a stone bust.

"STOP!" Draco bellowed. "The Dark Lord wants him alive..."

Crabbe was sputtering nonsense, but Draco wasn't listening. He had glanced at Potter's frantic look and realization hit him. The bust! The bust had the diadem! Recalling his studies, Draco finally remembered where he had heard of a diadem. A diadem was a crown!

He pushed Crabbe out of the way in an effort to search for the diadem, not realizing he had inadvertently saved Crabbe from a Stunning Spell sent by Hermione. "It's that Mudblood!" Crabbe cried. "Avada Kedavra!"

Draco had split seconds to react. NO!, he thought as he grabbed at Crabbe. But, Crabbe was shoving him away, knocking Draco's wand out of his hand. Draco made another grab at the brute.

"Don't kill her! DON'T KILL HIM!" he shouted at the gorm, recognizing his mistake. Thankfully, the overly large idiot was too slow to pick it up. However, a slight understanding flashed in Potter's eyes before the raven headed boy dove into a pile of rubble.

Damn! He hadn't meant to say "her." He hadn't meant for anyone to realize anything. Especially not Potter. Draco was pleased when Potter did not comment on his mistake. Hopefully, the boy had already forgotten it.

He saw Potter looking for the diadem. While the raven head looked for the crown, Draco focused on finding his wand. His mother's wand. Help Potter. Help Potter. How the bloody hell was he to help Potter without a wand?

As he searched desperately, all hell broke loose. Well, at first, Draco thought it was Hell. Crabbe had cast Fiendfyre. It was a spell they had just started learning. Amycus hadn't showed them how to dispel it yet. Crabbe really was an idiot.

There was nothing to be done. Draco knew he wouldn't find his mother's wand in all the chaos. He grabbed a Stunned Goyle and attempted to drag the brute out. Problem was, the exit had been blocked by the fire.

He saw a small tower of charred desks and stumbled to them. With a strength he did not know he possessed, Draco managed to climb upon the desks, pulling Goyle along with him.

He heard a terrible scream unlike any he had ever heard... No. He was wrong... He remembered that scream all too well. It was the scream of the dying. He prayed desperately that that scream did not belong to his beloved.

Then, with a silent prayer of thanks to Merlin, he saw her again. His love. She was sitting on a broom behind Weasley. She was safe.

He saw Potter make a dive for him and raised an arm. Even as he touched Potter's hand, Draco knew his own hand was too slippery. He was bathed in sweat from the heat of the fire.

He watched as Hermione and Weasley struggled to get Goyle on their broomstick. As he did his best to help them, Draco tried to catch Hermione's eye. But, she refused to look at him. When they departed, he climbed up behind Potter.

"The door, get to the door, the door!" he shouted urgently. Now that she was safe, he focused on his own safety. He did not care whether his voice was a bit higher than normal.

Relief began to flood through him as they followed Hermione. Then, Potter suddenly turned. "What are you doing! What are you doing! The door's this way!" he hollered, tugging at Potter's sleeve and not understanding.

Then, he saw the diadem. He made no more protests as Potter retrieved the tiara. Though he did not know it's importance, Draco knew Potter needed it. Help Potter.

But, he couldn't. Not wandless as he was. He screamed when a flame attempted to uproot him and Potter. He did not realize how tightly he held on.

Finally, they were safe. Draco collapsed facedown onto the cool floor next to Goyle. As he expelled smoke from his lungs, he retched. He knew what had occurred even as he heard himself choke, "C-Crabbe... C-Crabbe..."

"He's dead," Weasley snapped coldly, finalizing the blow.

Draco did not respond. Memories of Crabbe flashed through his mind. He had known the foolish behemoth almost his entire life. They had played together as toddlers. Crabbe had been his friend... No, he corrected himself. For the first time in his life, he realized Crabbe was never his friend. A minion, perhaps. A bodyguard even. But, never a friend.

It was then Draco understood what real friends were. Real friends, like the Golden Trio, like his wife, did not care how much money you made or how popular you were. They were just your friend. They cared about you regardless of how well connected you were or who your father was. Real friends.

Draco had real friends. He had found true friendship in the woman he loved. Hermione. He had found real friendship in his co-Head, Padma. He had found real friendship in Blaise. They were his true friends. Not the swine who perished in the flames created by his own foolishness.

He listened as she spoke, taking in every syllable. He wanted to remember her voice. Wanted to plaster it into his heart. It was hopeless for him. She had shunned him. And, to make matters worse, he had no way of aiding her or Potter. He was pathetic. Decrepit.

Not even the loud explosion could interrupt Draco's thoughts. His mother's wand. How could he had lost something so precious? How was he to repay her for it?

His parents had always been there for him. Sacrificing their own happiness to give him whatever he wanted. They had never asked much of him. Just, make top grades in school. Marry someone fitting for the Malfoy title. Produce a grandchild or two.

Potter had stolen Draco's wand... Draco's wand...

Draco got up, abandoning Goyle. He saw Hermione and her friends as they departed. The body of a Weasley lay dead among the rubble. He did not take the time to think about which Weasley it was. Something else crept into his mind.

"Don't worry, darling," Draco whispered to the path Hermione had vanished from. "There's still time."

Draco would not lose hope. He pulled out his ring and placed it on his finger. It burned, but he ignored the pain. He paid no mind to those around him. He was useless without a wand. He planned on remedying that problem.

"Winners keepers, Malfoy," he remembered Potter saying.

He just had to figure out how to win one. He couldn't grab one off the ground. Those never worked properly. He needed to take one from someone's hand.

He found a likely candidate in the form of a Death Eater. The Dead Eaters didn't need their wands, he surmised. He approached the black robe from behind. "Hey!" he barked, his hand balled into a fist, ready to strike.

Suddenly Draco couldn't move. The Death Eater turned on him and gave him a toothless grin. The man had frozen Draco and the boy could feel the panic start to well in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he pleaded, scared, but at the same time trying to use the man's knowledge of the Malfoys to his advantage. "I'm Draco, I'm on your side!"

The Death Eater crumpled and Draco felt his body relax. Someone had stunned the man. Looking around for his saviour, Draco was surprised when he felt an invisible fist come into contact with his face. Stunned, Draco fell to the floor.

"And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!" yelled a voice that took Draco a few moments to recognize as Weasley's.

Draco gave a tight lipped smile. He didn't care what Weasley called him. He deserved it. He plucked the wand from the Death Eater's slackened grip. A mischievous smile crept upon Draco's face as he wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand.

Help Potter. That's exactly what Draco intended to do.



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Author's Note: The quotes in itallics are taken from the actual book. I decided not to change what was actually said. In fact, in the next chapter, you'll find more things that were actually said in the books, including Voldemort's speeches. But, I will give credit in that chapter.