Not All that Glitters is Gold

MoonlitWorld – I’m a sucker for cliff hangers. Hah.

margaritama - Some how I was hoping some one would do that. Lol. It was a sad time writing the end but OH WELL!

distinctlyME - Yes it would suck if Draco was dead just as the story was getting good. I’m not a huge fan of pregnancy without both parents around. We do get to see the future of Dramione in the epilogue (that I’m working on). And no, no Stockholm Syndrome Draco is impervious to those types of things, muahaha. But there will be some interesting interactions between Dramione. =)

A/N: If you don’t understand what happened then don’t forget to read the end notes. =)

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Platform 9 ¾ stood in front of Draco, an eerie fog cascading over the ground to which he stood. He looked around in confusion, bringing his hands to his eyes to rub them. Nope. Still the same. Where in the bloody hippogriff’s hell was he? He heard a rustling sound behind him and spun around, fully intent on hexing the blaggard to kingdom come. But upon further inspection, he had no wand. His hand was empty and it confused him.

“Now, now my dear boy,” came the calm voice of some one familiar.

Draco peered over the edge of the wall and spotted some one sitting on a bench across from the Hogwarts Express. He frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets. The fog around the old man seemed to billow a pathway straight to Draco just as the old man turned his head.

Nearly having a heart attack, Draco stumbled against the wall. Dumbledore. What the bloody hell! He had died! Draco witnessed it with his very own eyes. Reality began to creep into his mind. He was dead. HE WAS DEAD!

Panic. Sheer and total panic set in. He brought his hands to his chest and felt around. There wasn’t any gash, no lost blood, nothing. Either he came to this place already healed, or he had died at the killing curse. Either way, he was stuck.

“Don’t just stand there, Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore chortled, looking into a box on his lap. “Come here, son.”

Draco felt his feet move under him as if he were guided by the mysterious fog. He plopped next to Dumbledore and stared out at the train with a glazed over expression.

“Toffee?” Dumbledore asked, holding the box up for Draco.

“Can we even eat?” He asked, still looking straight ahead. “We are dead after all.”

“No, not dead Mr Malfoy.” Draco looked at him, almost with hope but Dumbledore’s sullen smile changed all of that. He slumped in his seat.

“Is this hell? Purgatory?” Dumbledore chortled again and out of the corner of Draco’s eye he saw the old coot pick up a toffee and toss it into his mouth.

“It is the place for non-beings.” He replied knowingly, “A place where the great gods have yet to decide our fates.”

“Great. They’re going to rewind my entire life and throw me into burning hell,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dumbledore shrugged, seemingly agreeing for the moment, “Then again Mr. Malfoy. We must always take into account ALL of our past actions. People change. Mold into what they are supposed to become. Great men are never born, my son, they are made.”

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m still dead,” Draco snorted, looking down at his neat, pitch black robes. “Why are you still here? I thought you of all people would be skipping around in fields of dandy lions.”

Dumbledore’s low yet light laugh echoed across the empty station, “Hm. That would be an odd sight indeed. But alas, I fear that my actions in the past are too being weighed. It has been quite lonely but I did see a young Mucliber come this way not to long ago.”

They sat in silence for a while, Draco’s mind replaying all of his last actions. He chose to save Hermione and thus give his life up as a Death Eater. He jumped in front of the killing curse for her. Not even in his wildest dreams would he ever have thought that he’d do that. The look on his father’s face was priceless, for that split second. Then gut wrenching hurt filled him. Tears beckoned at the corners of his eyes but he kept them still. The last thing he wanted was to see old man Dumbledore watch a fearless, supposed, Death Eater sob.

As if he knew it was coming, Dumbledore rested his hand on Draco’s shoulder and patted it. Draco instinctively leaned in and allowed the tears to come. Imagine if Crabbe or Goyle saw this now, he’d never live it down. Then again, he was in non-being and thus he could cry all he wanted. Hah! Dumbledore whistled a lovely tune, patting Draco on the arm lightly at his former student sobbed into his chest.

After a moment, Draco seemed to have gotten a hold of his self and sat up, pushing away from Dumbledore. He wiped his tears, sniffled a little, and cleared his throat to hide any indication that he was upset. Dumbledore didn’t pity him, nor did he even say anything of comfort. He knew, Draco knew that he knew, it was best to let the Slytherin cry it out.

“What happens now?” Draco finally asked after another moment. Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes locked on his.

“We wait.” He replied lightly, looking back into his box of treats. “We wait, Mr. Malfoy. For the fates to put us in order.”

“This just bloody sucks,” Draco mumbled, looked down into the box that had appeared in front of him. He looked to Dumbledore, who looked back at him twinkling.

“Might as well relax, my son. Have a sugary treat.” Draco sighed and dug his hand into the box, pulling out a toffee and popping it into his mouth.

It didn’t make him feel better but it made Dumbledore think it did. They sat in silence for another few minutes, before Draco turned to him.

“Did you know Snape was on your side?” He asked, watching as Dumbledore unstuck two lemon drops and nodded.

“Yes, I did. We had become quite the inseparable pair, your godfather and I.” Dumbledore lowered his eyes to Draco for a second before explaining, “I’m afraid that Professor Snape suffered the same thing you are suffering from.” He paused and Draco quirked an eyebrow, “Young love. Severus was enamored with the young Lily potter that he was compelled to see the light, just as you were with Ms. Granger.”

“How do you know…” Draco said instantly, shifting in his seat.

“When you are a man of my age, Draco, you learn to see things even before they’ve come to fruition.” He sighed happily and looked back down at Draco, “It was only a matter of time before you too saw the light. Of course, being Slytherin made it quite difficult and a tad selfish. I suppose you risked your life to save Hermione Granger, not only because you love her but because you felt that pang of guilt.”

“Suppose so,” Draco mumbled, looking away.

“It was that guilt combined with your undying love for her that caused you to switch. Of course, it helps to know that as a child you were spoiled unlike no other child and, thus, do not share or play well with others.” Dumbledore continued, sighing a little. “I have always believed in you, my son.”

His crescent shaped glasses tilted toward Draco, who looked up at him quizzically. “What?”

“When you first came to Hogwarts those seven years ago I instantly saw potential. Not for excellence but for change. Your father was a very unpleasant person, yet the way your eyes shone. It was only a matter of time.”

Draco sighed, “Too bad it happened too late.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Dumbledore said quietly, “It seems the fates have already made a decision for an old man.”

The lights on the Hogwarts’ Express flashed and the doors slid open. Draco could see shadows of people moving inside and hear their muffled voices. Draco stood up as Dumbledore did and stared at him.

“What? Where are you going?” He asked, almost afraid to be left alone.

Dumbledore closed the box of toffees and handed it to Draco, who took it and held it lightly in both hands, “It is time I go ‘frolic in dandy lions,’ as you say. I do hope they have extra socks there.”

He turned and walked toward the train but Draco’s quivering voice stopped him, “What am I supposed to do then?!”

Dumbledore looked over his should and held his hands out, “Enjoy life, young Malfoy. Enjoy life.”

Within a second the doors had closed and he was gone. Draco was left alone, standing in the middle of Platform 9 ¾ with a box of half eaten toffees and lemon drops. He snorted, “Enjoy life. What life? I’m fucking dead.”

Draco plopped back onto the seat and tossed the box of toffees next to him. He leaned against the wall and sighed, banging his head against it hard. He didn’t feel any pain, but he wanted to.

“Enjoy life.” He mumbled, closing his eyes picturing Hermione’s beautiful face. “Hermione.”

…
“Draco!”

Draco’s eyes shot open and he looked around. He swore he heard her voice, maybe it was his mind playing tricks.

“Draco!”

There it was again and this time it was coming from behind him. He shot out of his seat and spun around, half expecting to see the Gryffindor girl but all he saw was a brick wall. He frowned and ran his hand through his hair, groaning.

“I’m starting to go mad!” He said loudly, to no one in particular.

“DRACO!”

“What the bloody hell do you want!?” Draco shouted at the air as he heard Hermione’s voice clearly.

“Please. Please, Draco.”

He looked down at his hands and nearly stumbled back in surprise. They had gone see through and glittered slightly. Panic was setting in again as he felt an overwhelming feeling of nausea set in. The room was spinning, his head was spinning, and he felt himself being pulled through something. Falling to his knees, Draco reached out for the bench in hopes of steadying himself but he sank through the ground.

“Draco, please.”

He closed his eyes and with a burst of blinding pain, shot up in his spot. Blood ran down the corners of his mouth as his eyes shot open. There was a blinding light what became blocked by several heads, one having a ton of bushy hair. Another, male, leaned over and looked to a woman, who was dabbing his forehead.

“Blimey,” came the voice, “And here I was just about to poke him with a stick.”

“Ronald, get away from that boy.” A woman shrilled, pulling one head away from him.

He groaned and tilted his head to the side as warm hands caressed his face. Her skin smelled sweet and was soft to the touch.

“Draco,” she said quietly, brushing his hair from his forehead as her face became more clear.

Draco tried to smile but it hurt too much. Instead his face probably looked like a goofy, albeit painful, grin. “Hi.”

There was a sigh of relief, followed by, “Hello.” And everything went black. Either he was dead, dreaming, or he had by some miracle came back. Maybe the ancient magic of the fates took pity on him and right now, he didn’t care. He was alive.

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End Note: Ok. So here we have Draco and Dumbledore in the ‘after life’ anything sound similar to something we’ve read thus far, hopefully? Dumbledore should never be without his sweets but I wanted to have him offer wisdom to the young Draco Malfoy. Ultimately, the ‘fates’ decided that, just as Dumbledore said; Draco was destined to become something great. Of course, his love for Hermione may or may not have spared him…*cough cough*