Playwrite's Misery

AN: Hey, hey! Tiny Chelle aka Estaria here. I LOVE D/G fics (duh). I was waiting for my little bro to get done with his voice lesson, when this popped into my head. I was listen to The Misery by Sonata Arctica and, well... I dunno. I just thought it up. So, here it is.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Company are the property of J.K. Rowling. 'The Misery' belongs to the group Sonata Arctica.

Synopsis: 7th year. Voldemort is on the move, and the killing off of Muggle wizarding families has reached an all time high. In the midst of it all, two people are sustained only by their love for each other.

The Misery

If you fall, I'll catch

If you love, I'll love

And so it goes my dear

Don't be scared

You'll be safe

This I swear

If you only love me back

~*Sonata Arctica*~

There were no longer any House tables in the Great Hall. The number of students had decreased as fearful parents took their children out of school, and the Headmaster thought it would be more suitable to have everyone gather around one. He had conjured a long, rectangular table in the middle of the Great Hall, around which the remaining students and teachers now seated themselves.

Of all the houses, Slytherin had the least number of students remaining. Two fifth years, a sixth year girl, and five seventh years were all that remained of the once proud house. It was rumored that many of the Slytherins had left school to join the Dark Lord, but the presence of Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts made that accusation seem farfetched.

At the head of the table, sat Albus Dumbledore. He had been strangely silent all that day, and Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonnigal was worried. She hadn't seen him this melancholy since the deaths of Lily and James Potter over sixteen years ago. She knew he was a powerful wizard, and suspected that he knew something terrible was about to happen. Indeed, for the past few days, Professor Tralawney had been walking around the castle, muttering phrases such as "Dark Lord" and "murdered in our beds".

Down the table, Blaise Zambini was busy whispering to Pansy Parkinson. He hissed something in her ear, and she looked across the table at Seamus Finnigan, and laughed. His was one of the saddest at the table. Earlier Death Eaters had killed that summer, his best friend and lover, Dean Thomas. Starting in July, Lord Voldemort's followers had gone on a killing spree, murdering over a dozen Muggle-born wizards and their families. Lavender Brown, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and the Patil twins were among those Hogwarts students who had been killed.

Farther down the table, sat Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Taller now, and with broader shoulders, he was but a shadow of the scared little boy who had stepped off the Hogwarts Express six years before. He looked tired, as if life itself were too much for him to bear. His eyes were those of a person who had lived many years upon the earth; not merely seventeen. He was surrounded by his fellow Gryffindors; his best friends on either side of him.

Ron Weasley, just turned eighteen, was a shade over six-foot. Still gangly as ever, his red hair allowed him to be picked out easily in a crowd. On the other side, sat Hermione Granger, talking to Harry in subdued tones. She had escaped the summer massacre, only because she had been at the Burrow, celebrating Harry's birthday. Since the death of her parents, she had been making her home at the Burrow.

Of the three friends, she had changed the most physically. Her honey colored hair was now long, sleek and shining. Her teeth perfectly straight from the braces her parents had insisted she get. She was short, and slender, not even coming to Ron's shoulder. Harry whispered in her ear; she smiled, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. He grinned back, and softly, kissed her hand, making her blush.

From his seat across the table, Draco Malfoy viewed the scene with disgust. It was bad enough he still went to school with Potter; did he have to watch him snogging his girlfriend as well? He too had grown over the summer, rivaling Ron for tallest student in school. His arms and chest were toned from his years as Slytherin's Seeker. His gray eyes narrowed, and he fought back a sound of disgust. He was experienced when it came to women, but he didn't think it right to show public affection.

A flash of red caught his eye, and he looked up to see Ginny Weasley enter the Hall. She apologized for being late, and then squeezed in between her brother and Potter. The others at the table shifted to make room for her, and Draco found himself sitting directly across from the redhead. He stared at her, but only for a moment. His eyes met her, and he opened his mouth to speak; she shook her head slightly, in warning, and he shut it.

They had to be extremely careful. It was imperative that no one know about their relationship. If it were discovered, it could mean danger for the both of them. Aside from Professor Dumbledore, there wasn't a living soul who knew of the love affair between Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Weasley. Professor Dumbledore, had only just discovered the relationship in September, when he found the two snogging in a broom closet. It was Dumbledore who had convinced Draco Malfoy to become a spy... for the light.

He took up where the deceased Severus Snape had left off, gathering information from Voldemort's inner circle. The Headmaster assured Draco that by helping the Light, he would gain clemency for his previous acts against the Wizarding World. It had taken thought and reflection, but out of love for Ginny, Draco had agreed.

The conversation had become livelier; young Dennis Creevy was recounting his slight disaster in Transfiguration earlier that day. The students were all laughing, and even Professor McGonagall looked slightly amused. All at once, Draco felt it. The burning of his arm; the pain caused by the Dark Mark. Confusion overwhelmed him. A raid? Now? Why hadn't he been informed? Then, he knew. He had been found out.

He stood, toppling his chair in his haste to rise. The crash startled the Hall into silence. "He's here!" Draco rasped. "The Dark Lord! He's here!"

"Malfoy, don't be a bloody idiot!" Ron snapped. "You'll frighten--"

But, Harry fell to the floor, clutching his scar, and crying out in pain. Hermione jumped from her chair, and knelt down beside him. "Harry! Harry! What is it?!"

The next moment it was too late. The doors of the Great Hall flew open. A rush of people in masks rushed in. And behind them, entered the Darkest Wizard of the Century: Lord Voldemort

AN: The fic is already finished, but I have to study this weekend. I'll type the next chappie up on Monday night, and post it on Tuesday. Much love! ~*TC*~