silent devotion ; dramione

01 | magdalene: the addict

Magdalene: The Addict.
Marie Howe.

I liked Hell.

I liked to go there alone
relieved to lie in the wreckage, ruined, physically undone.
The worst had happened.
What else could hurt me then?
I thought it was the worst, thought nothing worse could come.

Then nothing did, and no one.

———

Fire had burned her lungs before, but this time it felt different because there was ash this time, because she was in the middle of the fire rather than watching it whip and burn and tease and wreck everything within reach while she watched from a distance.

Fire was destructive, and cruel but it danced under the night sky to a beat that you couldn't hear, but you could feel and it was unforgettable. She hadn't meant to get too close, or get caught in the middle.

But she had.

And she couldn't find it within herself to regret it.

Diagon Alley fell victim to a thick fog, and Hermione walked slowly using only the street-lamps to guide her. It felt spiteful: the dull pain that settled behind her eyes and the heaviness in her chest that didn't seem to want to leave her. It felt good to feel something. She had become addicted to the feeling of tension between her eyebrows, she'd become addicted to feeling hollow.

Hermione's hands were cold, on the verge of turning blue and they shook as she turned the handle to Flourish and Blotts. She'd taken the night shifts there just after the war, and she'd stuck to it. Working overnight meant that she knew she wouldn't have to deal with very many people so she could read behind the counter, serve whoever came in, leave at eight-a.m or whenever someone came to take over, then she'd head straight for bed and by the end of the month she'd be paid for it. It was perfect for Hermione, even if some of her friends frowned upon the idea of her working on her own late at night to the point  she had to remind them that she was a big girl who had fought dark wizards for most of her life. What could hurt her more than that?

"Hello, Hermione!" Came a voice, Hermione smiled slightly at the girl behind the counter who was waving her small hand at her. "Hi, Iris. How are you?" Hermione spoke, hanging her coat on the pegs just by the till.

Iris Clanwing was a short girl, with blonde hair that fell to her shoulders. Hermione recalled the girl being sorted into Hufflepuff in her own second year, she had never crossed paths with the younger witch before taking the job in Flourish and Blotts. Though, Hermione was glad for the new face, and herself and Iris had become quick friends.

"I'm alright. It's been busy here tonight with Christmas coming up and all." Iris tapped her finger on the till and smiled at Hermione, a genuine smile, one that Hermione was glad to receive and return. "You best get off then, Iris. It's late. Give my wishes to your parents" Hermione placed her hand on Iris's shoulder and gave her a nod of her head, telling her that she would be okay here on her own.

Iris left ten minutes later, after giving Hermione the usual run down. "There's a book reserved on the shelf under the till... Under the name, Malfoy, I believe. All right, 'Mione! See you in the morning. Keep safe" The girl left, flashing another smile at Hermione through the window with a wave.

Hermione had gone stiff, she hadn't heard that name in months. Once the war had finished, nobody uttered it. Like it was forbidden and Hermione supposed it was. Hermione sat down slowly and picked up the book, she shouldn't pry but she was too curious for her own good.

Potions Opuscule by Arsenius Jigger. Hermione snickered, trailing her index finger on the golden stitching on the books cover. "Bloody potions. Of course." She mused to herself before placing the book back on the shelf.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the silence of the bookshop. Hermione nearly fell off her seat. She hadn't even heard the doorbell ring. The witch scrambled to her feet and looked up. Draco Malfoy, stood on the other side of the counter, watching her with a smirk on his face. She shouldn't have been so surprised, because she knew he would be there soon but her breath caught in her throat when she caught sight of the wizard.

His hair hadn't changed much except it grew and sat like a shock on top of his head. She was slightly glad he'd gotten rid of the gel, it made him look less intimidating. His pointed features had started to soften and his smirk didn't seem too malicious. "Granger." His voice shattered her trance, and her cheeks grew hot.

"Sorry about that" Hermione's voice fell soft and quiet and she reached for the book again, the leather feeling cold between her fingers. "No worries, Granger." He replied, his voice; passive and clear. It made her feel nervous.

Hermione held up the book to show it to him, smiling smally at the wizard. She just had to do her job, and get him out of there as fast as possible. Draco just nodded his head at Hermione and then he watched her ring up his book. "That'll be one galleon and three sickles, please, Malfoy." Hermione held out her hand as he placed the coins in it, and then she placed his book in a small paper bag before writing out a receipt for him. "Keep this, incase you feel the need to return your book." She told him and he nodded as she placed the paper in the bag and handed it to him. "Enjoy your potions, Malfoy." She said curtly as he turned to leave, an amused smirk graced his face. "Thanks, Granger." He called before leaving the shop.

Hermione fell back in her seat and tears brimmed to the surface. She hadn't been much of a crier before going to Hogwarts. She supposed it was good to feel proper emotions, but she loathed crying. Her body shook and there came the fire in her stomach again. Guilt fell from her shoulders and crumbled to the floor with every tear that fell. She couldn't stand Draco for having this affect on her. She was so much stronger than this, or she should be.

Her tears came cold, and tiresome and she felt that it shouldn't have. Her fingers trailed the wooden counter-top, tracing the grooves, counting the books on the shelves, and outside... Snow fell from the sky, allowing itself to become cruel and brutal as it settled on the street. Snow fell from the sky, and she had become addicted to it's cold.