The oncoming snow storm brooded over the horizon. The wind howled slightly as it began to pick up. So many things he wished he could tell her but words escaped him. The weird thing was that Draco Malfoy never lacked words.
There he was sitting in his living room, looking aimlessly at the Christmas decorations all around him. It was December 24 and all he could think about was Hermione Granger. He had hidden his feelings for her for so long. At times, he hid them even from himself. He would reprimand himself for even thinking about her in that way, but he couldn't help it. Nothing he could do about it now, in less than three hours he would be off with his father fighting in the war. He had been made death eater two days ago. His father was so proud. Draco had partially done it to please his father. The other part of it was that he feared for his life. He was raised believing that you couldn't fear anything or anyone. If your life was in jeopardy you would have to face what was jeopardizing it or join it.
The Malfoys had this unbridled lust for power. They favored those who sought it and despised those who feared too much of it. That's one thing Voldemort and The Malfoys had in common an unbridled, raw lust for power. Voldemort was the only one brave enough to go after what he wanted, even if it didn't really benefit others. This yearning he had led him to kill many. He cursed the lives of many by killing these people. People were left to suffer, either parentless or lost their entire family. For what? The ravings of a mad man. The beliefs he had that were superior to others.
All this led to Draco's decision to become a death eater. It wasn't really what he wanted to do with his life. But to his disbelief, his father had already decided how his life was going to be. This didn't surprise him, but it did anger him. He thought his father trusted him enough to decide for himself. He hated being babied by his father. When he was younger he didn't mind it much because he needed the protection. But now he was 18 years old, just graduated from Hogwarts with one of the top scores from his year, Hermione Granger beating him, and he wanted independence. He was still getting treated as though he were a child. He had long talks with his mother about this, but she wasn't much help. She wouldn't stand up to his father anymore than he would. As he was thinking this his mother entered the living room.
She loved this time of year so much. Yet this year was going to be difficult to endure. Her husband and son were off to fight a war. Frankly, she was tired of the fighting. Fighting had been going on for the past few months. Both sides were claiming lives one by one. Her husband was gone all that time. Her son was studying. Now that her son was finished with his studies he would join his father and claim his rightful spot as death eater. She didn't want this for him anymore than he did, but Lucius was the man of the house and no one questioned his authority. She walked over to her son and noticed he was deep in thought. She looked at the expression upon his face and knew he was thinking about something other than the war.
"Draco," she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. He jumped slightly and looked at her.
"Yes, mother," he said softly.
"I just want to have a talk with you before you leave. It might be the last time I see you. God forbid! But nonetheless I must talk to you."
He could tell she was concerned. He didn't like to make her mother worry about him. He hated it when she worried because then she became overprotective. She would be worst than his father and she would follow his every step to ensure things were fine.
"Mother, don't worry about me. Nothing is going to happen. Father will be there. I don't think he'll allow anything bad to happen to me."
"Honestly Draco, I don't know what to think anymore. Your father has become very distant in the past few months. I don't blame him with the war and all. Even so I don't trust him with your life. Had he really cared for your life he wouldn't have made you become a death eater. He knows where this life leads, but refuses to acknowledge it."
"You know father is a stubborn man. For him to admit he's wrong would be like making him realize Voldemort will never return to power."
"Shh! Don't say that so loud. Someone might overhear us," she said, looking around to see if anyone had heard.
"Sorry mother. It's just that father is too wrapped up in Voldemort returning to power. Doesn't he realize that Voldemort is too weak to return? He has been beaten numerous times by Potter. Doesn't that tell him something?" Draco said harshly.
"I know, but this isn't what I wanted to talk to you about. I just wanted to know is there anything that you haven't told me that you would like to tell me now," she said trying to change the subject.
Draco looked at her in disbelief. Had she read his mind? Did she know somehow about his feelings for Hermione? He wasn't too sure, but this question did surprise him a little.
"No, mother, why do you ask?"
"It's just that when I came into the living room you seemed to be deep in thought. I know there's something you're thinking about other than the war. Tell me what that is."
Draco didn't know how to tell his mother about his feelings. It never really crossed him mind and he really didn't feel comfortable telling her these things. He cleared his throat and was going to come up with some sort of excuse not to tell her but they were interrupted by Lucius Malfoy.
"It is time," Lucius said darkly to his son. He had come out of nowhere and luckily didn't overhear anything they had said.
Draco nodded and got up from his seat. Lucius handed his son a black cloak. He grabbed it and put it on. Lucius put his hood on as well. Both of their faces were enveloped by the darkness of the hood. They looked at Narcissa for one last time, then apparated out of sight.
Warnings: Some HBP spoilers, character deaths and in later chapters sexual content.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Sad, ain’t it?
Summary: Draco is off to fight in the war next to his father, but he can't get someone out of his mind. Hermione. He feels it's too late to let her know how he feels. Or is it?