Begin Again - Dramione

Mascots

Hermione's POV

"Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure." - Stephen King

Sometimes I wonder what happens when a person dies, or more specifically since that incident in the Department of Mysteries- on the other side of the veil. I'm sure I'm not the first one to ponder over that, but ever since the war ended, the thoughts of dying had clung to me like second skin.

I saw it happen in various forms, sometimes a quick spell and the victim wouldn't even realize what had happened until he would find himself falling, lifeless. Sometimes, the victim faced a quantum of inhumanity, torture and despotism after which they'd succumb to the sweet silence of death, welcoming it with open arms.

Disasters had plagued our long journey to freedom from the darkness which had suffused all over the wizarding world. People had changed, and it was okay but somethings were still the same, Draco Malfoy's complete baboon-ness being one of them. It sure came as a shock to find the grey-eyed enigma practically appear on the door-step of Gryffindor territory but what was more amusing was his utter display of indifference. I could bet my kidneys had it been any other day, he'd have been stampeding around, throwing up a tantrum about having to work with a mudblood.

As I made myself comfortable in the room conjured up for our work, I waited for him to hand me the letter, but he kept staring at me in a thoughtful manner, making the awkardness bar rise up immensely. After a pause, I finally found my voice and demanded to read the letter, which he handed me over and continued to relax in his armchair, completely disregarding me as I buried my nose into the official statistics and tedious instructions. According to the letter, they were both supposed to interview some important figures on both sides, plus some of the lesser involved; and a general recount of the whole ordeal.

We were also granted special permission to use veritaserum if necessary and also the liberty to use our weekends to step out of the premises of Hogwarts, if need be.

Having read through the thick roll of parchment a hundred times, I finally glanced over at the idiot I was unfortunately partnered with, only to find him oddly sweating and writhing, thrashing around silently in his seat.

For a minute I couldn't- for the life of me, figure out what was going on, until I looked closely at his face and realized he had drifted off to sleep and was having a nightmare, most probably. A feeling of poignancy seemed to tighten its grip around my heart, making me feel light-headed for a moment. Getting up, I moved closer to him, trying to think of a way to bring him to consciousness without frightening him further in the process.

I decided on trying to poke his side (Not the best decision, but worth a try). I slowly edged closer, calling out his name softly while jamming my wand into his side, just enough to make it feel uncomfortable. For a few minutes he continued to thrash around wildly, but then suddenly he came around and sat up straight, looking around in bewilderment and panting as if he had run a marathon. Then he happened to glance my way and shot out of his seat, on shaky legs and stomped away, having thrown a killer glare my way. The only thing on my mind at that moment was, if looks could kill. . .

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I walked into the Great Hall some minutes later, making my way towards my friends, who seemed to be gushing over something. As I flopped myself next to Ron, he turned towards me and offered me a pleasant smile.