The Broken Ones [ENG]

FFUUUUCK

^Mina känslor angående cliffhangern.
Och alltså Astoria, du har fått mig att hata henne cx

aktiverar tråden lite igen. cx

Hej allihopa! Har ni haft en bra jul? Kommer ni förlåta mig för cliffhangern, haha?
(den var väldigt elak I know)

Ska försöka bli klar med kapitel 20 senast imorgon, har inte så mycket kvar alls!
Hoppas det finns några läsare kvar här, annars funderar jag på att bara flytta den här till min blogg och fanfiction.net men jag vet inte.. det går lite segt för den här på Mugglis
Mugglis är inte det fanfictionparadis det en gång var, haha.

Förlåt att jag inte kommenterar så ofta, men jag kommer fortsätta läsa, och ser fram emot nytt kapitel!

Jag kommer alltid att läsa och just nu är jag typ inne bara för att se om du har uppdaterat xD

Sluta inte skriva bara! Kan du inte ha den på båda ställena? ^^ Är inte så insatt i fanfiction.net :c

Jag läser alltid det du skriver!! Idk jag tycker bättre om att kommentera/läsa på mugglis men du får ju göra som du vill.
(fast jag tycker du ska fortsätta här på mugglis heheh)

Tack så mycket för åsikterna guys ♥

Som belöning skrev jag klart ett kapitel
Det här kapitlet är jag faktiskt väldigt nöjd med måste jag säga. Det är så gulligt rakt igenom och det var hemskt roligt att skriva. Hope you like it!


Chapter 19; Waking


xx-flashback, november 1996-xx
Draco Malfoy’s life was officially a Mess with a capital M.
He was failing a vast majority of his classes at Hogwarts. Sleep had suddenly become somewhat of a rarity in his life. His appetite did no longer exist, and he constantly forgot to eat. His father was in prison. And last but surely not least, he was a sixteen year old Death Eater given a task he was doomed to fail. So yeah, he didn’t really feel that honoured, no matter how much his aunt Bellatrix told him he should.

The early november morning was peaceful, which stood in sharp contrast to the rest of his life. He’d snuck out on the school grounds by himself, bringing only a coat and a backpack with a few belongings. No one would notice his absence by the breakfast table - the whole Slytherin house was used to it by now. But this time his plans were innocent. He just needed some time alone.
The oak he’d chosen as resting-place was situated on a smaller hill not far from Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, the arena in which he no longer trained. He had perfect view over the pitch thanks to the elevation, but knew from experience and self-investigation that he was practically invisible to the players. A perfect hiding place - his perfect hiding place. The grass was damp with dew, but Draco wasn’t bothered by it. He was alone in the presence of nature, of trees and birds. He had an apple and an enchanted flask of tea that stayed warm, and no one would bother him here. It was perfect. One silent place in the chaotic world.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team were warming up down on the pitch, running laps and doing pushups in the mud. He envied them, the lucky souls able to enjoy themselves playing some simple, irrelevant game. He’d forgotten the feeling of doing something only because you wanted to.
A black sketchpad lay in his lap, as if taunting him, challenging him to grab his chewed-down magic drawing pencil and move it over the paper. But what would he paint? His feelings? A Slytherin emblem? A portrait of The Dark Lord? An apple? Every suggestion felt sillier than the other. Had he really enjoyed doing this once? He flipped through the old pages, those already filled with various sketches of people and trees and other meaningless objects. They were all equally disturbing to look at, painful reminders about the fact that his life had been manageable once upon a time.
Due to some unknown reason, he always kept a pair of enchanted binoculars in his backpack. They’d proved to be useful a couple of times - and they gave him an even better view over the Quidditch pitch. He could always enjoy himself watching the Gryffindor players make fools out of themselves.

But before he had time to reflect over what he was doing, her face was appearing on the paper, line by line with careful touch. Jawline. Cheekbones. Blushing cheeks.
And the eyes. The glittering eyes, shining of light and bravery and liveliness, shining of something that seemed to attract every person identifying as male in the nearest area.
The personality pretending to be so unaware of it.
The smile, honest and authentic.
The tall and slender body with its well-toned muscles from Quidditch.
The ambition, the oh so Gryffindor-like chivalry, the honesty and knife-sharp intelligence.
The freckles, mysteriously attractive on her, placed in artistic constellations on nose and cheeks.
The hair, the auburn hair that never turned out the right tone in portraits, no matter how much he tried to enchant it.
Detail after detail appeared on his paper, and he could feel himself relax as they did so, he could feel himself sinking into a calmer state that occurred so seldom nowadays. Draco was alone with his sketchpad and pencil, and nothing would ever bother him here.

Except time. Time always managed to find a way. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice for today, and they were walking towards the changing rooms. He could see her saying something to Harry Potter, and he could see them both laughing. A bitter jealousy rose in his chest, despite him desperately trying to ignore it.

His life really was a mess, huh? And she was the messiest part of it all.
He tore out the finished drawing from his sketchpad in deep frustration, leaving it for the weather to demolish, and then left.

xx-current time-xx


Draco woke up to shadows.
All he saw was dark murkiness, a confusing nothing. He was clueless about his whereabouts. It felt like he was existing in an empty void, floating around in space, sucked into one of those dark holes the muggles talked about. And he was cold, colder than he could ever remember being, colder than what he’d thought to be humanly possible. He tried to curl up into a ball, making himself smaller to maximize his body heat, but his limbs didn’t react. It was as if his body wasn’t there.
And then he was warm, way too warm. He wasn’t sweating, he was burning. Someone was setting fire to his body - that was the only legitimate explanation. His flight instincts were all trying to help him flee, but his body was numb and immobile.
Was he dying? Was this what it felt like to die?

But there were sounds. He heard something. There were people talking.
His temperature returned to normal.
Then suddenly, everything was light.

xxxxxxxxxx

Ginny Weasley woke up to a normal body temperature. That did not, however, mean that she found it very pleasant.
The room was spinning, and everything was a blurry mess in which she could make out close to nothing. The colors all blended together, combining into an ugly palette of greyish colours. Grey and blue. Some white, perhaps? And a large dot of ginger, hovering right above her. She moved her arm, trying to touch it, but found that an excruciating pain in her ribcage prevented her from going all the way.
“Ssch, ssch.” She recognized that voice. “It’s all good, Ginny. You’re all good. Just lay still.”
“Bill?” A faint whisper was all she managed. Her throat itched, as if she was catching a cold.
“Indeed, little sis.” He placed a light kiss on her forehead. “Try to go to sleep again, will you? You need to rest.”
“Where am I? I demand to know where I am. I can’t see anything…” Her brain felt distastefully fuzzy, and she hated it. She wanted her brain clear and competent, just like it always was.
“You’re at St. Mungos, sis. You’re in safety, you’re being taken care of. No need to worry.”
“Why am I here?” She tried to remember, but her memories were just as blurry as the rest of her thoughts. She remembered Astoria, standing outside her door and completely scaring the shit out of her. Everything from there was a blank.
“You had a pretty adventurous night”, Bill answered avoidingly. “I’m not really supposed to talk to you about it. The healers said it was best if you recovered the memories in your own time. Just… just try to relax.”
“Quit screwing around, you worthless shithole of a brother”, she muttered. “Just… just talk to…” She never finished her sentence. Sleep had come to get her once again.

When she woke up the next time, her view was significantly sharper. She could actually see her surroundings now - a clear improvement. She was indeed at St.Mungos. Sadly enough, she’d visited the place enough times to recognize her surroundings. Bill was still at her side, mindlessly flipping through an issue of Witches Weekly. She wondered where Draco was.
“Where is Draco?” Her voice was still hoarse, and her throat felt like she’d swallowed an entire desert. She needed water.
Water.
She remembered, now.

She remembered falling, falling with a speed she’d never experienced before, not even when flying on broomsticks. Seeing the water down below, knowing she was going to land in it, knowing she probably wouldn’t make it. Fearing there would be rocks at the bottom, fearing they would crush her. Knowing they probably would. This is it, she’d thought. I may have survived the Battle of Hogwarts but I’m sure as hell not surviving this.
Draco, Draco, Draco. Where was Draco? She needed to talk to him, hug him, kiss him, feel him. She needed to make sure he was alive and well.
He’d killed Blaise. Had Astoria killed him?

“...in another room, he’s being taken care of, don’t you worry, they’re doing everything…” She was drawn back to reality by Bill’s voice, only to realise she’d missed half of his monologue.
“I didn’t quite catch that. What other room? What are they doing?” There was a desperate pitch to her voice. Draco was fine, right? He had to be fine. Every other option was too horrible to even think about. But Bill’s eyes were sad when he repeated the story.
“I found all of you, Ginny. You and Draco, and Blaise and Astoria. You were all lying on the shore, none of you conscious. I panicked, of course. I screamed for Fleur. We two took you to St. Mungos.”
“I asked for Draco.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He made an uncomfortable face, like this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. “He was, well… he was not in a good state even before the duel.”
“I remember”, she whispered. “I… We took care of him. I don’t know what it was… is. Where is he?”
“He’s not here, Gin.”
“Then where is he? I demand to see him! Take me too him! Now!” She was screaming despite her inability to do so.
“Please, Ginny, calm down. He’s just fine. He’s in good hands. It’s just…” There was a sad smile upon his face. “The alcohol. It was slowly killing him, trashing his organs. And when he quit so abruptly… they said it was a severe case of alcohol abstinence. The healers are doing their best.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Her voice had never been weaker than this, but Bill, being both a long experienced big brother and a self-learned master of comforting people, still heard her.
“I hope so”, he said. Ginny found his words far from reassuring, and tried to sit up to be able to punch him in the face, but the acute pain in her chest made her forget the idea.
“He better be fine”, she said with confidence and then yawned. “That, he owes me.” The corners of Bill’s mouth lifted into a conservative smile.
“Sure, little sister. If you say so.” He tucked a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, a small yet affectionate move. “Oh, and by the way - it’s probably best if you lay still. Your ribs are kind of broken.”


xxxxxxxxx
xx-flashback-november 1996-xx

Even though the grey and foggy november day was the pure definition of depressive weather, Ginny Weasley was in a happy mood. And why shouldn’t she be? It was Saturday, she’d just finished a tough Quidditch practice during which she’d scored no less than eight goals, she’d done all of this weeks assignments yesterday, and she and Dean had scheduled a date in the Room of Requirement this evening.
“What’s the matter with you, Ginny?” Demelza Robins, one of the other chasers, giggled at the sight of Ginny dancing around in her towel, simultaneously humming a muggle song Hermione had taught her. “Have you used a cheering charm or something?”
“Nothing, I promise.” She laughed. “I’m just really happy.”
“Well, please share some of that happiness”, said Demelza with a groan. “I have detention tonight. Three hours. With Professor Snape.”
“We’ve all been there”, said Ginny. She and Demelza had the girl’s changing room to themselves after Katie’s tragic accident, which was nice in the matter of space and available showers, but lonely in the matter of company and laughter. Katie had always been a laugh - witty with a sense of humor, always bringing a new topic to discuss. Ginny didn’t dare say anything out loud, but she knew that Demelza had always liked Katie’s company more.
She tried her best to be benevolent and comradely, she really did. It just didn’t always help.
“They’re intimidated by you”, Hermione had told her once. “Face it, Ginny. You’re thin but muscular and your legs are up to your neck. You have flawless skin - no, freckles doesn’t count. You’re popular. Boys like you. You’re smart, you have humor. Everyone knows that even The Chosen One has a crush on you. You intimidate people.”
First world-problems, truly. But having younger kids blush when they talk to you, and constantly having other girls spread rumors about you in pure jealousy, gets tiring after a while. And she hated the fact that it affected her teammates in Quidditch. Quidditch was supposed to be immune to all negativities.
Girls. Why did they have to be so complicated?

It wasn’t even lunch-time yet, which meant she had the whole day in front of her. She’d promised to meet Luna at their secret hiding-spot in an hour, but since she had nothing better to do in the meantime, she went there directly. Some alone-time never hurt - it was somewhat of a luxury in the crowded halls and shared dorms of Hogwarts.
Their secret spot was really more of Luna’s secret place than it was Ginny’s. But even the popular, successful and seemingly perfect girl needed her moments of silence, and she often found them up here. There was a marvellous view over the Quidditch pitch, her second home, and if you knew where they were you could find both the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid’s Hut. The only company up there was trees, birds and occasionally a squirrel, and it was absolutely perfect when you needed to be alone.
Or when you needed a private place to snog someone. Ginny had tried both.

It was a pretty steep climb to get there, but she’d done it enough times to not get exhausted by it. It took only minutes for her to reach her destination, and when she did so, she relaxed against the decrepit oak that had become her go-to resting place. It was weird, but she felt safe there. Safe, in the middle of the deplorable, vehement world.
Someone had left what seemed like a drawing under the oak. It must’ve been pretty fresh, since it had not yet been destroyed by the weather or by time. She wouldn’t have thought much about it normally - drawing wasn’t an oddity at Hogwarts, lots of kids did it, and sometimes you found art strewn over the school property. She kind of liked it. Art was beautiful, after all, and she was always impressed by the artists - how is a pair of hands and a pencil able to accomplish such beauty? She was impressed by this drawing as well.
But the one thing that both fascinated and creeped her out about this particular drawing, was the fact that she recognized the motive so well - It was the face she saw in the mirror each day.
Who could have painted this?
She folded the picture neatly and put it in her pocket, saving it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Draco woke up for the second time, he saw neither light nor darkness.
Apparently, heaven looked exactly like the patient rooms of St. Mungos. That, he’d never guessed. Everything from the worn wallpaper to the weird plastic floors was the same, every detail identical. The beds even felt the same. He lifted his arm, which felt surprisingly heavy. He still had a body. Every fact he’d ever collected about heaven had been proved false so far, but maybe it wasn’t that odd. Maybe that was exactly the way it was supposed to be.
He felt remarkably worn out and sleepy to be in heaven, though. And it smelled funny. Oh well - he would get used to that soon enough.
“Draco?” The human that must’ve been an angel had appeared next to him, examining him closely. The human looked suspiciously much like a healer. Weird. Everything in heaven seemed to remind him of St. Mungos. Unless…
“Draco, you’re at St.Mungos. You had a pretty bad fall, and aside from that, you were already in a pretty bad state before that.” The healer’s smile was kind, sympathetic. Draco hated it still, because if he was alive, the worst thing that could possibly happen must’ve had happen.
“Gi..Ginny?” He asked.
“She’s fine. She’s been asking for you. You will see her soon enough, but for now, you need to rest.” The healer gave Draco’s cheek a friendly stroke, and left.
He felt a tear of happiness roll down his cheeks, while fireworks of euphoria exploded inside him.

He didn’t notice falling asleep, and he didn’t notice waking up. All he noticed was that suddenly, she was there. She was lying in the bed next to him, beautiful as ever.
He could never fully express her beauty in a way that made it justice. He strongly doubted he’d ever be able to. She was his sun, his once upon a time, his dream, his heroine, his saviour. She was the one he’d never deserved, yet received anyway in a miraculous serendipity.
His miracle.
He’d nearly lost her this time. He would never, never, lose her again.
He thought she was sleeping, but as she reached for his hand and he grabbed it, he realised she wasn’t.
She was awake, and her hand was warm, and she was alive. She was very much alive.
“Merry Christmas”, she whispered.
“Merry Christmas”, he repeated.


__________________________________________________
hade tänkt att publicera den här vid jul som ni kanske förstod. anyways...


Jag tycker det finns en massa hemskt roliga detaljer i det här kapitlet x) Kommentera gärna om ni hittar något ni tyckte särskilt mycket om!

Grymt som vanligt!!! Älskar när delarna kommer ut! Made my night ♥♥

Holy cow!!!!!

“Quit screwing around, you worthless shithole of a brother”

“Oh, and by the way - it’s probably best if you lay still. Your ribs are kind of broken.”

Apparently, heaven looked exactly like the patient rooms of St. Mungos. That, he’d never guessed.


aaaah!!! Bill!!! Jag älskar Bill mer än allt, typ. (jag älskar hela Weasleyfamiljen mer än allt)
(så om du vill ha idéer - Weasleyfamiljen!!! heheh)

Jag älskar att Draco ritar! Jag har inte vetat om det tidigare men det är det bästa någonsin?
Och när Ginny hittade teckningen < 33

Allting var jättebra men jag tyckte allra, allra bäst om delen med Bill och delen med teckningen och Quidditchen.
Much awesome.