The Broken Ones [ENG]

Du skriver så fint ♥ Kommer aldrig sluta läsa denna, och när den tar slut läser jag om den.

does anyone want a new chapter or

Jag vill *viftar med händerna*

Och jag vill, haha

Nej men, jag har ett kapitel färdigt här! Tänkte skriva igår att det nog skulle ta lite tid, men sedan kom jag in i skrivandet och fysikpluggandet blev lidande istället. #noregrets


Here it goes ♥




Chapter 11; Burn

It had been a long day for Narcissa Malfoy, and it wasn’t over yet.
They were all long to her. Never-ending, infinite days that melted into each other, nothing ever changing. They consisted of her, her unnecessarily huge and soft bed and the pain she was so enmeshed in.
Narcissa, bed, pain.
It had been her whole life for a while now.

A magazine lay on her stomach, unread. Reading was her only method to get through the days without dying of boredom, but this day had been too painful even for that. It felt like a storm of wild centaurs had invaded her head, running around in circles and stomping their hooves aggressively.
They were finally going to sleep now, giving her a temporary rest. The healers had told her she had about a year, maybe less. She hoped for less. It was an unknown disease, they’d said, and they could do nothing but give her medication for the pain and then wait it out.
She had survived the Great Wizard War, the Battle of Hogwarts, and she’d survived Lord Voldemort in all his glory, but she was not surviving this. It was pathetic. But perhaps was it the fate she deserved.

She reached for the magazine. When she wasn’t in pain, she was restless, and unable to sleep all the same. It was the latest Witch Weekly, delivered in the mail yesterday. Everything she needed and didn’t need to know about the lives of people she had no interest in anymore. They were reminders of what she’d once been, what she no longer was.
Her husband had divorced her soon after the battle. Her only son hadn’t spoken to her in years. Her pure blood was no longer a symbol of status. Narcissa was a nothing. A dying nothing.

But the font in Witch Weekly was a pleasing size to her sensitive eyes, so she devoured the magazine anyway.
Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were planning a trip to Mauritius. Neville Longbottom was applying for a teaching job at Hogwarts – Herbology, the nerdiest subject possible. The Chudley Cannons were thinking of recruiting some guy named Oliver Wood. None of it was of any interest to her, and she was very close to putting the magazine aside when a headline caught her attention.

The moment she was finished reading, the centaurs had returned, powerful as ever. She closed her bloodshot eyes and tried to breathe away the pain. It was an absolutely worthless technique, but the medicines made her dizzy and nauseous and would only make her forget what she just read.

Draco. Her Draco. Her son.
He was alive. He was obviously well enough to date someone. She did not even care who, as long as it meant he was happy.
A tear of relief and joy rolled down her cheek before the pain increased to a brand new level of torture and she screamed out loud.

xxxxx

Astoria Malfoy didn’t share Narcissa’s relief and gratitude over the newspaper clip. Astoria Malfoy seldom felt gratitude over anything, but this – this made her insides bubble and boil of anger, and her brain get to work with the plan of revenge. Revenge, revenge, revenge.
The Ginny girl had, much unfortunately, survived her wounds caused by the Sectumsempra curse. She could be prepared for Astoria to try that one again.
Avada Kedavra was too risky – even if the redhead’s death would put a definite end to Draco’s almost-happiness, it would also most likely put Astoria in Azkaban. There must be better ways to maim the girl or to sabotage their relationship. Sabotage… Wreck… Burn…
A punishment. An attack. The perfect revenge plan. She was going to combine them all, and the outcome wouldn’t be pretty. But it would be satisfying. And she’d come up with the perfect idea.
“Burn, burn, burn”, she whispered to herself while constructing the plan in her head.

xxxxx

The last time Ginny had been this nervous before a Sunday dinner with the Weasleys had been when she and Harry declared their engagement. At least they’d been two about it then, already knowing everyone would approve. This was nothing like that. This was her, only her, and she was strongly doubting how approving her family would be.
It would’ve been easier if the newspaper clip was nothing but a nonsensical rumour, something she could decline without thought. But nothing was ever just easy for her.

The lights were on in The Burrow, a clear contrast to the dull and grey weather England offered today. Yesterday’s sun seemed to have been only a temporary confusion, and now autumn was back to its usual self. She would’ve been shivering if her nerves hadn’t made her feel sweaty.
“Ginny.” She’d barely entered the hallway before her mother stood in front of her. With a quite impressive length of 5 ft 8, Ginny practically towered over her mother, but an upset Molly Weasley would make even Hagrid’s mother feel small.
“It smells delicious”, she said in a desperate effort to steer the conversation towards a friendlier subject.
“Do you have something to explain, Miss Malfoy?”
“It’s Witch Weekly, mom. You need to stop trusting Rita Skeeter. She also said Ron and Hermione were planning a trip to Mauritius, which seems pretty unlikely to me.” Bill waltzed in from the living room before Ginny had time to defend herself. “Hi, sis. How are you? Would you mind joining me and George for a game of Exploding Snap?”
Molly stood numb as Ginny followed her brother into the living room, radiating a mysterious feeling of knowing something Bill didn’t. But then again, Molly Weasley always knew. It was possible to fool every member of the Weasley family, but it wasn’t possible to fool her. It was only a matter of time before the truth would leak, and Ginny didn’t look forward to it.

On today’s table stood Molly’s meatballs with onion sauce and mashed potatoes, Victoire’s favourite and therefore an obligatory meal for the whole family at least every other Sunday. Victoire herself was busy chasing four year old Teddy round the dinner table, her parents struggling with the challenge of getting her to quit the game and sit down in her high chair. The game eventually ended when Teddy chose to surrender, making the two year old scream of happiness and pride.
“If two children gives us this much entertainment at dinner, we’ll have a circus soon enough.” Arthur laughed and ruffled his granddaughter’s veela-blonde, princess-like hair.
“You’ll have twice as many in January.” George gave his father a big smile, putting his hand on Angelina’s baby bump.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too”, Angelina muttered. “These false contractions are killing me. At least he sleeps at night.” She gave her husband an envious look.
“You two will be able to share that burden soon enough”, said Molly with a smile. “Help yourself to food, everyone… No, Ron, children first!”


The dinner wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as Ginny had thought it would be. Molly didn’t talk to her and neither did Ron or Harry, but otherwise the dinner was full of life and laughter. They all laughed at Ron stuffing himself with food, cheered when Bill and George competed about how many meatballs they could fit in their mouth at the same time, listened patiently to Teddy when he talked about his new toy broom, and got caught in an intense discussion about Puddlemere United’s last game. Everything was as it should be, except from the upset glares Harry gave her from the other end of the table. She didn’t really blame him. Ron gave her the same ones, Molly did as well, and Hermione just looked at her with pity. At least no one brought the subject up, not until Molly had went to get the dessert.
“I heard you two were going to Mauritius”, said Percy with a meaningful glance at Ron and Hermione.”
“I wish.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “It would be wonderful, if it only was true.”
“What – we’re not going?” Ron looked at her with great surprise.
“No, you moron!”
“But I thought you said something about a trip…”
“To visit Neville at Hogwarts, yes. Not to Mauritius.”
“Quite a difference”, Harry reminded his best friend with a pat on the shoulder.
“There’s always the lake”, said Bill. “I bet The Giant Squid would love some company.”
“I’m not a huge fan of the lake”, said his youngest brother. “I was imprisoned there for half an eternity once, and so was Hermione.”
“Eternities? You were unconscious! And I saved you, you unthankful little brat!” Harry gave him an upset look.
“I’m just saying, it would’ve been a lot more enjoyable if the quest had been in Mauritius…”
“There were other interesting material in Witch Weekly today”, said Arthur with a meaningful look at Ginny. “Do you have something to tell us?”
“Yeah, Gin, something you’d like to tell us?” George gave her a wide grin.
“Rita Skeeter really needs something new to write about”, said Harry before she’d opened her mouth. “I’m guessing she ran out of ideas, and used some photo-magic for the picture.” He talked fast, like he himself didn’t believe what he was saying. “Right, Ginny?”
It broke her heart.
As the green eyes met her brown like they’d done so many times before, the pieces continued to split themselves, a mitosis of pain. Harry, her Harry. He deserved to know the truth, didn’t he?”
“I…” She swallowed. “I’m afraid…”
“Stop”, said Angelina with a strained voice. “Everyone stop talking.” All eyes turned to her instantaneously.
“Is something wrong, Angelina?” Molly, who had just arrived with a stunning lemon meringue pie, looked at her daughter-in-law with concern.
“I-think-my-water-just-broke”, said the sudden centre of attention so fast it became a single word.
“Ha-ha”, said George. “Stop kidding. It’s like 10 weeks left.”
“Shut that great ugly mouth of yours up or I’ll… aahh!” Angelina grabbed her husband’s arm so hard he went pale.
After that, chaos erupted, and no one cared about Ginny the slightest anymore.

xxxxx

Draco had made himself comfortable in the window seat this Sunday night. He had made himself a big cup of organic chai tea, found a random book in a box, and was doing his best to stay focused on the story. Draco found reading to be one of the most magical things in the world. To open a book and live someone else’s life, to lose yourself in a captivating story and forget about the outside world, to laugh and to cry and to be inspired all because of an unique combination of 26 letters on a bunch of papers – that was magic in its truest form. The best parts of his childhood had been when people would read to him, tell him stories of brave wizards and wild spirits, use their usually so harsh voices to just tell him a story. Those had been the moments that saved him.
His mother had read to him sometimes. Not very often, but she had. He had wished for time to stop when she did so, wished for the moment to never ever pass. Yet they always did.
His father had never read his son a single word.

Draco would probably never be a father. He was too messed up a person for that, convinced his life would end before he got the chance to make something good of it.
But if his life in some miraculous way would ever gift him with that, Draco promised himself he would read to his kids.

“I loved that book.” He had gotten so into the story that he hadn’t noticed Ginny arriving. He moved his feet, and she took the other end of the seat. “We read it in Muggle Studies my fifth year. I believe I got an O on my paper.”
“It’s really interesting.” Draco put an old sticky note from his pocket at his last read page and closed the book, examining the cover. It was a fairly uninteresting cover, showing only a black tree with white leaves against an orange-toned background, but the story had made up for it.
“What the muggles call racism… we’re no different, you know?” She was twirling her crimson hair round her index finger, a motion of thought. “Pure-bloods. Mud-bloods. White people. Black people. We don’t judge people for the colour of their skin, but we do judge them for their blood. We’re no better than Alabama in the early 1930’s.”
“It sounds really depressing, when you put it like that. But I do guess you’re right.”
“I think I saw my own family in Atticus”, said Ginny. “We’re pure-blood. Many still don’t understand why we… choose not to care about it. Why we choose to believe it doesn’t matter. Unlike your family.”
“I grew up believing I was better than anyone else because of my blood.” Draco snorted. “Look how far that got me.”
“People change.”
“Yeah.” He met her eyes. “How did the dinner go?”
“Apart from the fact that my sister-in-law was rushed to St.Mungos, in labor 10 weeks before her due date, it went fine.” She gave her two-way mirror a quick glance before putting it down in her pocket again. “My mother’s there, and so is Fleur and Hermione. She’s in good company.”
“Do all your family dinners end that way? Ours seem really lame compared to that.”
“Aren’t they practically just death eater meetings?”
“No!” Draco protested. “Yes”, he admitted after some thought. “When you mention it, I don’t think we’ve had one in like, ten years.”
“I would love to invite you the next one, but I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance to tell them the truth about what they read in Witch Weekly.” Ginny put her head in her hands, looking resigned. “Sorry about my failure.”
“I didn’t ask you to do anything.”
“I know. I just… The sooner I tell them the truth, the better. You’re living in my apartment, for Merlin’s sake.”
“Ginny.” He looked at her with compassion, opening his thin arms to let her body rest against his. “It will be okay. Somehow, it’ll be fine.”
“If our experiences so far is the definition of fine, I’m not sure I want to know the definition of not fine.” Her voice was quiet, melodic, and Draco could not help but take advantage of his chance to breathe in the flowery scent of her hair.
“We’ll manage.”
“I’m really lucky to have you”, she whispered before her breathing got heavier and her eyelids closed. She was fast asleep, the warmth of her next to him so calming, so precious.
He kissed her forehead ever so lightly before closing his eyes himself, sleep greeting him instantly.
They were safe. They were sound. Or so they thought.

xxxxx

Out on the pitch-dark and shadowy streets, Astoria Malfoy was sneaking around, going through the last details of her strike. Ginny had entered the apartment building marked with a 45 an hour earlier, enough time for her and Draco to go to sleep. Did they sleep together? She was sure they did. They probably did more than that, the dirty little delinquents…
Whatever they were doing, this would interrupt them.
She was preparing herself for the Fiendfyre spell, a difficult spell who took a lot of energy and skill to perform. Maybe she should’ve practised?
“Fiendos fyro”, she whispered, and saw the flames appear, not as big as she’d hoped for, but big enough.

Five floors up, Draco Malfoy woke to the smell of smoke.
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-Boken de pratar om är To kill a Mockingbird, en stor klassiker som de flesta high school-elever i USA har läst Och några andra, inklusive jag. Om ni inte vet vad den handlar om kan ni googla en summary, eller så struntar ni i det!

-Harry är en del av Weasley-familjen, och därför är han med på Weasley-middagar oavsett om han är förlovad med Ginny eller inte. Det är i alla fall min bild!

-Annars har jag inte mycket mer att säga, mer än att ni är fantastiska som läser och kommenterar. Specifiera hemskt gärna vad ni gillar, det ger verkligen motivation och betyder så mycket!
Kommer aldrig kunna uttrycka min kärlek till er som läser och säger fina saker om den här berättelsen.
♥♥♥
“I can’t write without a reader. It’s precisely like a kiss—you can’t do it alone.” ~John Cheever

ÅÅÅÅH VAD BRA DU ÄR alltså allting e så perfekt OCH VRF GJORDE DU EN CLIFFHANGER FÖR DIN JÄVEL

LÄNGTAR V MUCH TILLS FRED & ROXANNE (om det nu är så de kmr heta i denna ff)
har världens hate-love relationship med narcissa(, och har även ett rent hate-relationship med astoria ((((--: hatar henne)

men du är så bra man vill aldrig sluta läsa, och att du är lika bra på att skriva på engelska som på svenska slutar aldrig (to) amaze (me) (what is det swedish ord)

snälla sluta aldrig skriva du e bäst

“Help yourself to food, everyone… No, Ron, children first!” JAG ÄLSKAR DETTA. Jag kan verkligen se det framför mig och det gör mig _så glad_ omg!!!

oCH alltså Astoria jag HATAR HENNE SÅ MYCKET och jag tycker så synd om Narcissa även fast jag aldrig gillat henne men det är så synd om henne stackars Narcissa : ((

I övrigt hela Weasley-middagen + när Draco läste = bÄST fast hela kapitlet var A+ så bra!!!

Och ärligt jag är så kär i Angelina hon är så himla fantastisk??

Jättejättejättebra kapitel tycker jättemycket om den här fanficen!!!

CLIFFHANGERS ÄR SÅ ROLIGA OKEJ??
Hahaha jag är elak

taaaaaack ♥ ♥ ♥


TACK så himla mycket!!
Weasleymiddagen var SÅ rolig att skriva, tillbringade en hel musiklektion där vi tittade på tråkig film med att klottra ner den i mitt block. Mycket trevligt ♥

Angelina är en så cool karaktär, så jag är beredd att hålla med dig.

tacktacktacktacktack ♥



Vad tyckte ni om att de diskuterade rasism så pass konkret?

Men herregud. När man tänker; Hon KAN inte toppa detta kapitlet, då jävlar, DÅ GÖR DU DET ÄNDÅ! Alltså jag får ju rysningar så fort jag ser att du har uppdaterat denna.

Alltså får sån sjuk medkänsla för Narcissa, trots att jag inte har varit något tidigare fan av henne. Och vi ska inte ens prata om Astoria, DIE BITCH !! Nejmen seriöst Astoria, var du tvungen att sätta eld på huset? (Jag tror inte hon förstår hur mycket jag hatar henne)

MEN DRACO OCH GINNY!? JA, BARA, JAAAA. Shippar dem såååå mycket - tack vare dig. Innan denna ff har jag varit emot Draco på alla fronter, men du har lyckats göra något som tränger rakt in i mitt hjärta, för att stanna där.

Cliffhangern ska vi inte ens prata om. MER. PUNKT. Kommer aldrig sluta älska denna ♥

...KAN JAG SLUTA GLÖMMA ATT SVARA PÅ KOMMENTARER jag hatar mig själv

TACK!! Dina kommentarer gör mig verkligen alltid lika glad. Säger det varje gång men det är sant ♥ ♥ ♥

Haha, jag började shippa Drinny från den här fanfictionen själv så det känns stort att jag kan få andra att göra det. Då vet en att en lyckas ♥


Jag skriver på kapitel 12, men har mått ganska dåligt i helgen och känner mig fortfarande stressad och obalanserad och ja.
[PMS does that to me]
Kan inte tänka på framtiden utan att få panik i alla fall. Det går lite segt på skrivarfronten just nu, men det kommer bli bättre!

Hoppas du mår bättre snart! Man kan inte alltid ha värsta skrivarflytet så det är helt lugnt! ♥