The Broken Ones [ENG]

DET ÄR KLART JAG ÄR INTRESSERAD!!

Chapter 13; Apologies

“Mr. Potter, I have to inform you that the results on your latest exam were disastrous.” Harry looked up from his focused inspection of the pair of boots he was wearing, and met the authoritarian face of his professor in Advanced Auror Knowledge, Mrs Zak. She reminded him of Minerva McGonagall, except for the fact that McGonagall had actually liked him, while Mrs Zak didn’t seem to like anyone. The rest – the tight hair bun, the cold expression, the awe-inspiring attitude – it was all the same. You didn’t fail Mrs Zak’s exams. You just didn’t.
“My sincerest apologies, Mrs Zak.”
“An apology won’t change the fact that you, on question number 31, answered that the creatures guarding the Azkaban Prison are centaurs, and we send people to Azkaban ‘because it’s fun’.” She put down the parchment roll and met Harry’s unsure gaze. “What’s going on? Mr Potter, you’ve been one of my most determined students throughout your whole education here, until now. How come you suddenly seem so distraught?”
“It’s nothing”, he answered. “I’m sorry. Is there any possibility I could take the test again?”
“Potter, I read the news. I, myself, have once experienced the pain of losing a lover…”
“There’s no need for pity, Mrs Zak.” He stood up and left the meeting room, ignoring Mrs Zak’s protests. Harry wasn’t born a very fast walker, but this time he made it out from the Ministry in less than five minutes, an exceptionally good time. He continued walking, so fast he might as well have been running, and didn’t stop until he reached Hyde Park, where he collapsed on the damp grass. It was not very comfortable, the dew soaking into his clothes and making him shiver, but it was manageable compared to his remaining pain.
The two-way mirror lay in his jeans pocket, demonstratively silent. He reached for it now, asking for the person he wanted to talk to the most and simultaneously the least.

Ginny picked up on the third signal.
“Harry?”
“Please, tell me”, he whispered to the mirror. “Where did we go wrong?”
Then he ended the call, immediately bursting into tears.

xxxxx

Astoria felt like a disobedient puppy.
Well, she felt like people treated her like one. She wasn’t that wacked in the head, even if the personnel in here seemed to think she was. She’d spent her latest 24 hours in the same room, muggle doctors occasionally entering to talk about her and never directly to her. They used words like psychotic, narcissistic, words she’d never even heard before. She’d refused the food they offered her, struggled against the nurse trying to put an IV in her arm, and eventually swallowed some pills just because they had an aesthetically pleasing colour.
The pills had made everything better. She felt like she’d had too much fire-whiskey at a party and been through a wizarding duel with someone. Her brain was fuzzy like the inside of her favourite slippers, her body sore and tired in the comfortable way. Her thoughts were a jumble of real and not real, fantasy and reality, but it pleased her.

Astoria had been given a sheet of white paper and a weird sort of pen, nothing like the yellowed parchment and quill she was used to. The nurse had asked her to “write down her feelings”. Feelings? Feelings? What were feelings? Funny word, feelings. Astoria laughed too herself. She had no idea how to write down her feelings, and certainly not with this amount of medication in her system. She was barely even able to form an actual thought…

But there was one thing she wanted to write. So she grabbed the pen, successfully guessing it was used roughly the same way as a quill, and started scribbling with big, uneven, letters.

xxxxx
Dear Draco,
This was not how it was supposed to be.

I was only looking out for you, like every wife does for her husband. I love you, Draco. My love is real love. The red-haired slut says she loves you, but her love is fake, Draco, it is fake. I’m trying to save you.
Come save me. You owe me that.

Either that or I’ll get out by myself.
And if I do, the next time will be even worse.

XOXO, Astoria.


The owl that had come to deliver the letter must’ve been the ugliest owl Draco had ever seen. On top of that, it had also given him a sharp bite which made him scream out loud when he tried to take the letter. He watched it fly away with a great deal of satisfaction, and went on to scrutinize the envelope. It was different from the envelopes he was used to – this was unnaturally white, straight and clean. The letters forming his name were too neat, and the whole thing made suspicion rise in his chest. Still he was unable to ignore it. What harm could a letter do?

He opened it, immediately recognizing the hand-writing and feeling his chest tighten as he did so. He read it. He read it again. His heart was beating faster, he was sweating and freezing at the same time, and he thought to himself, not again. He wasn’t able to think much further than that.


Minutes later, Ron Weasley discovered that he’d forgot his lunch at home. Remembering the tasteful curry chicken with peanuts from yesterday that awaited him in his fridge, he decided against buying lunch in the cafeteria.
“I’ll just apparate home and get it, I’ll be back in ten”, he promised his lunch-buddy Caleb, a mere stand-in lunch buddy to him in Harry’s absence.

Apparition had never been Ron’s greatest skill. Even if he’d never had to experience the traumatizing encounter of losing half a shoulder a second time, leaving half an eyebrow was kind of his signature move by now. He rubbed the empty space over his blue eyes as he rummaged through the fridge, looking for a box of left-over rice to go with the chicken. Why did Hermione have to put food in separate boxes? It just wasn’t logical, and to make it all worse, he’d left his wand with Caleb… He was just about to call her trough the two-way mirror when another sound reached his ears.

It sounded like someone was breathing in panic, perhaps crying. Ginny had gone to sort through what was left of her things from yesterday’s fire, and so the only person at home would be Draco. The bare thought of having to comfort Draco Malfoy made Ron flinch, but there was something in the panicked breaths he heard that made him remember.
Made him remember times he desperately wished to forget.
He closed the fridge and walked over to the guest room.

“Leavemealone”, a shaky voice said when Ron opened the door. Draco was in fetus position on top of the unmade bed, shaking so much he might as well have been vibrating.
“Hey, mate, what’s going on?” Draco’s shaking state gave Ron undesirable flashbacks to the weeks after the battle, watching George like this, shaking and hyperventilating and never crying, only screaming.
“Like you’d care”, the shaky voice answered him, continuing to hyperventilate. “You, you hate me.”
“I…” There it was, the bad conscience. “I don’t hate you”, he whispered. “I just have a… oh, never mind.” He sat down on the bed next to his former enemy, and did something he’d never imagined himself doing – he gave Draco Malfoy a friendly pat on the shoulder.
“What are you after?”
“Look.” Ron swallowed hard, both his pride and his saliva. “I’ve… My brother George, he suffered from panic attacks. I know one when I see one.” He turned his hands over and over in his lap, trying to form the words without making a fool out of himself. “Can I… Can I get you a glass of water?”
Silence followed his words, even Draco’s hyperventilating taking a break.
“I’m fine. You can go. You don’t want to be here with me anyway.” His voice was less shaky now, allowing the vocal chords to reveal their usual tone.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted”, Ron blurted out. “I truly am. I’m far too good at holding grudges.”
“And for what idiotic reason would you possibly decide to let them go? I am no good man, Ron Weasley.”
“Maybe not”, the red-haired man admitted. “But I am starting to realise, that maybe you too are a human.”
With those words, he left the bedroom.

xxxxx

Three cartoon boxes of various belongings of hers, all smelling distinctively of smoke, was all Ginny Weasley had left from the apartment she’d purchased only weeks ago.
She remembered July, when her biggest problem had been whether her and Harry’s vacation trip would be spent in Rome or Barcelona. It all felt like a joke now, going through what was left after someone had set her apartment on fire. Her life just couldn’t get any messier now, could it? She let out a deep sigh of frustration as she leaned back towards the wall in a sparsely decorated room at the muggle police station.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.
She reached for her two-way mirror with a warm feeling in her heart – Draco? But no, the face she met wasn’t Draco’s. It was Luna’s, which surprised her.
“Hi, Luna. What do you want?”
“Hello.” Her voice was back to its usual melodic tone, and her face expression was neutral. Ginny took that as a good sign. “I heard about the fire.”
“Who told you?”
“The Daily Prophet.” Luna gave her a faint smile. “I saw it in a shop window during my walk this morning. Are you sure it wasn’t a catahera who started the fire?”
“A what?”
“A catahera. It’s a crossbreed between a cat and a chimaera. Very easily irritated, very cruel and vindictive, often sets fire to things when upset. I’ve been researching it…”
“I’m quite sure it wasn’t a catahera.” Although it does sound pretty much like Astoria, she thought to herself.
“Well, anyways, I’m really sorry for you. I would invite you to come stay at my apartment for a while, but it just doesn’t fit three.”
“You know I didn’t leave Draco”, Ginny noted.
“I had a feeling.”
“Luna, I’m really sorry, but I just can’t bring myself to… You don’t know the whole story.” Ginny absentmindedly twirled a strand of auburn hair round her index finger.
“You’re right, Ginny.” Luna sighed. “I don’t know the whole story, and I acted like a terrible friend last time. I’m really sorry about that. I suspect the nargles might’ve been involved, I just found a possible nest under my bed…”
Ginny knew it wasn’t very polite of her to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. Luna’s interest and dedication in her research was truly impressive, but it was impossible for her not to have a laugh at it every once a while.
“If you want to, we could schedule a coffee date and talk it out tomorrow”, she proposed.
“I don’t drink coffee. I heard it can break down your brain”, stated Luna sincerely.
“Tea. And raspberry crumble. With custard. At that café you love.”
“It’s a date, my friend. I’ll be in touch.” One last contagious smile, and Ginny found herself facing her own reflection again.
Her life might be one humungous mess for the moment, but to have Luna as a friend would always be a blessing.


xxxxx

If there was something Ginny Weasley had always loathed, it was being held up late at work. She enjoyed her job at The Daily Prophet a great deal, loved to let her creative spirit free while still working with Quidditch. But when the clock struck ten p.m. and she was still caught in the crowd of an unfinished game… Oh, how she wished she could’ve just gotten up and left. It was hard not to let your enervation influence the article when you’d watched the same mediocre players fly round the stadium for three hours straight.

Two months ago, at the time she still lived with Harry, she wouldn’t necessarily have cared that much about being late home.
But with Draco, it was something else entirely.


“Sorry for being late”, Ginny excused herself as she slipped into the guest room. “Got held up at work. Slow quidditch game, and they weren’t even good…” She was on the verge of bursting out into a dramatic commentary session when she realised she was talking to herself. Draco lay half naked on top of the covers, looking as if he’d fallen asleep halfway through the process of undressing. His arms and legs were spread out like the base of a spider web, his face turned towards the wall and his mouth opened into the smallest ‘o’.
He looked adorable, and all of her buried irritation from the game melted away like it’d never been there in the first place.

She lay down next to him, in the little area of leftover bed that barely existed. Draco moved instinctively as she neared him, mumbling something inaudible.
“It’s okay. It’s just me.”
“Mm-hmm.” He shuffled closer to the wall, switching to a crouched position that made his spine and shoulder blades protrude clearly through his pale skin. She felt a sting in her heart as she saw his fragile body, thinking about all the problems they had yet to deal with.
She’d read the pamphlet about mental illnesses from St. Mungo’s over and over again, searched for more information on her own during her period of forced bed rest, realised how conspicuously little she knew about it and went on to curse the Wizarding Community for stigmatizing certain subjects so hard. Yet she still couldn’t bring herself to ask why. Why new scars on his forearms appeared, and why she still felt a faint smell of vomit in his breath every now and then.

She loved him. Undeniably, prominently and whole-heartedly.
But was it enough, and would she ever be able to save him?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


There you go! Ni är bäst, varenda en av er. ♥
Jag vet inte om jag berättat att jag är en citatnörd, men om ni vill göra mig glad så får ni hemskt gärna dela med er om ni hittar något ni gillar. Det är det bästa jag vet. Jag får så långa och fina kommentarer här att det väger upp för mitt inte så enorma läsarantal, haha. ♥ ♥ Jag klagar verkligen inte.

Vad vill ni ska hända? Jag har idéer, men inget är spikat i sten, så berätta hemskt gärna vad ni hoppas på!!

Tack för att ni finns :*

Ny läsare! Detta är sjukt bra, älskar det. ♥

Åh vad roligt, Tack! ♥

"The nurse had asked her to “write down her feelings”. Feelings? Feelings? What were feelings? Funny word, feelings. Astoria laughed too herself."

Ahahah orkar inte ^ What were feelings? Jag ser en frustrerad Astoria framför mig som bara tänker på ordet.

Alltså detta kapitlet... You leave me speachless... SÅ JÄKLA BRA!! Jag sitter och bara fokuserar på texten och drar mig inte ifrån skärmen förrän hela kapitlet är utläst. Din berättelse got me like .

Älskar alla ord som får berättelsen att bli så trovärdig, du använder dig av sådana ord som blir väldigt originellt och det är superkul att läsa! Får ju större ordförråd varje gång jag läser denna, haha!

Hur mycket jag än gillar Draco kan jag inte låta bli att tycka synd om Harry - han är ju praktiskt taget helt hjärtekrossad. Men Draco är fortfarande min baby, det kan man inte ändra på

Ojoj nästa kapitel... Jadu, hade varit kul om Lunas och Ginnys lilla träff var med, älskar Luna ♥ Självklart vill jag även ha mer Draco i bilden, men annars är det fritt fram för dig att överraska mig!

Jag tror att, vad du en väljer, som ska hända, så kommer det bli bra. För du kommer att beskriva det så jäkla underbart så oavsett om typ Draco dör eller om Harry förvandlas till en enorm groda eller what ever. Så kommer du beskriva det så himla amazingly att man kommer gilla det oavsett.

Skriver på nästa kapitel nu och det blir så himla mysigt, hehe ♥

Snart läst ikapp allt nu! Och alltså Johanna, HUR??!?! Hur är du så otroligt, fruktansvärt begåvad?? Förstår verkligen inte hur du kan skriva så här. Du skriver på riktigt mycket bättre än många publicerade författare. Ett sånt flyt i texterna. Och jag älskar ditt språk. Vill bara läsa sånt du skrivit nu. När jag läser annat så känner jag bara ähh kan jag inte få återvända till Johannas, haha. Du är så duktig hjälp

Underbart ♥

;___________; *insert 10 000 gråtande emojis*
Du är så fin och jag älskar dig så. Kan verkligen inte formulera hur rörd jag blev av din kommentar. Tack finaste ♥




Glad you liked it! :*


___________________________________
Tänkte uppdatera er alla om att jag dubblat min wordcount idag?? wooow. Bra skrivarkväll här måste jag säga.

har bara slutet kvar att skriva

Se fram emot Fred och Roxanne!! all thanks to Cindywho reminded me of them a few chapters back