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To Bring You Back by Tiffr
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To Bring You Back

Tiffr

A/N: I just finished reading Charles Dicken's "A Tale of Two Cities" in my English class, and obviously, you guys can tell that I've had much too much time to dwell on "what ifs." So yeah, this is just a story that was brooding around my head as I read this wonderful masterpiece-a classic y'all should read!

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To Bring You Back

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summary: "I had to come back," Draco whispered. "You wouldn't understand." Harry fumed, clenching his wand painfully as he shouted, "What type of idiot are you! To come back here, knowing that you'd be killed! Do you have anything to live for?!" Draco gave him a sad smile, chuckling as he replied, "That's why I'm here, Pothead." And Harry knew. He hadn't come back for his mum. His dignity. The truth. He had come back for Ginny.

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"Master Malfoy?"

"What is it," Draco spat, rising from his bed in an unhurried manner. "It's....bleeding 5:30 in the morning! What the bloody hell could you want with me now?!"

"I'm sorry, Master Malfoy, but your mother ordered that this letter be delivered immediately." The young girl put the letter on his bedside table hastily, scared of what hex her master might put upon her. "Y-your breakfast will be ready shortly, if you wi-"

"No, just leave," Draco whispered, rising out of his lavishly adorned bed, his fingers running through his blonde hair nervously. Whimpering, the young servant nodded, bowing before running out of her master's chambers. Trembling slightly, Draco walked to his bedside table, staring at the familiar scrawling on the outside of the letter. Licking his dry lips and swallowing, he picked it up, the crisp paper feeling rough in his hand.

Opening the envelope with a Malfoy crested opener and laying it on the table, Draco began to read. His brow furrowing, Draco knew what he had to do. Calling for the young girl, who was in his chambers only moments before, he stabbed the blunt knife into the envelope, breathing heavily.

"Pack my clothes," he ordered hoarsely, swallowing once more as he stuffed the letter into his coat pocket. "We're leaving for London."

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Harry Potter sat in his backyard, staring aimlessly into the sky. How life had come to this, he didn't know. His eyes reflected the triumphant joy of spring, yet triumph was far from his grasp.

"Daddy?" a small voice whispered, and Harry looked down to see his daughter, Chloe, gazing up at him sadly. Smiling slightly, he raised her up onto his knee, sighing into her hair as she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

"Where's uncle Ron, Daddy?" Chloe asked, her green eyes blinking at her father. Seeing the tears gathering in his eyes, Chloe began crying as well, whispering, "Don't cry, Daddy."

"I'm sorry, Chloe," Harry said, wiping his tears away slowly. "Uncle Ron...he's in a better place."

"Is he in heaven?"

"Yeah, Chloe..."

"That means he's an angel now, right? With wings and a yellow hoola hoop on his head?" Laughing softly, Harry smiled, nodding. "Don't cry, Daddy," Chloe whispered, smiling up at her father. "Aunt Hermy said that Uncle Ron is going where he deserves to go." Noticing the shocked expression on her father's face, she smiled even more broadly before finishing. "She said that Uncle Ron was too good for all of us. Like Mommy was too good for us. I'll miss him, won't you, Daddy?"

Harry, gaping at her daughter, shook himself out of his stupor and smiled, breathing in deeply as he looked up at the clouds.

"Yeah, Chloe, I'll miss Ron too."

The two sat there for a while, staring into the sky. Harry, remembering the best of times, the worst of times that he and his best mate had shared; invisibility cloaks, Hermione, girls, adventures, near death, side by side combat, butterbeers, the Burrow, Hogwarts. Chloe, remembering the laughs and hugs and kisses, the smell that was distinctly Uncle Ron, the Christmas visits, the presents.

Sighing, Harry wondered why Ron had to be sacrificed.

How life had come to this.

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"What's the meaning of this!" Hermione screamed, her face as red as her blotchy eyes. "What the hell are you guys telling me!"

"We're s-sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but-"

"Voldermort has been killed! Murdered! By definition, out of existence! And now you're telling me that he's somehow back?!"

"No, not at all miss, what we're saying is-"

"And right when my husband was murdered by a hound of deatheaters, you come to my house, in the middle of the night, the day after his funeral, to tell me that you have evidence to believe that Voldermort killed my husband?!"

"N-no, if you would just listen-"

"You're the one who has to listen! How dare you come barging into my house assuming that I'm going to accept these words of idiocy spilling out of your insignificant mouths, that somehow-"

"Hermione." Hermione whipped around, her angry eyes searching in the dark.

"What the hell do you want," she spat, her hands clenching her wand convulsively. "And how the bloody hell did you get into my house!"

"Hermione," Harry said again, his green eyes boring into hers as he stepped forward, his jaw set. "Please, 'Mione, just-"

"Don't you 'Mione' me!" Hermione screamed, stepping slightly backwards as she pointed a finger at Harry's chest. "Don't you fucking dare!"

"Hermione," Harry tried again, reaching out to lay his hands on her shoulders, when she sprung her empty hand backwards and spiraled it to smack Harry on the cheek. Ignoring the stinging pain, Harry stepped forward again, enveloping Hermione in a hug.

"Let go of me!" Hermione shrieked, attempting to escape Harry's grasp. "Don't you fucking touch me! Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry whispered into her ear, his face buried in her hair. "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your bloody pity!" Hermione screamed, punching at Harry's chest, kicking his shins, doing anything possible to escape his hold on her. "I don't want your fucking pity!" But it was when she said this that the tears began to escape her eyes, flowing down her cheeks freely as she became too exhausted to fight her best friend. "I don't fucking want it!"

"I know," Harry choked out, and Hermione could feel something wet sliding down her shoulder, could feel Harry trembling. Finally laying her head on his shoulder and embracing him desperately, Hermione closed her eyes, hating herself.

"I don't want it..." she whispered, and Harry rubbed her back, glaring at the two aurors who had arrived at Hermione's house. Quickly taking their cue, they stepped out of the door and closed it behind them, the door clicking into place. Hermione stepped backwards, wiping her eyes hurriedly when she finally looked up into his exhausted face, the face she once looked to for hope, for encouragement.

The face that she depended on so heavily.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, a tear running down his cheek. "There's something you have to know about Ron's death."

"What is it?" she whispered back, taking a finger and wiping the tear away.

"He was murdered by a deatheater," Harry said, swallowing hard as he began to tremble once more.

"I know that," Hermione said, her brow furrowing.

"No, you don't understand," Harry replied, licking his lips nervously before croaking out, "It was Malfoy, Hermione."

"M-Malfoy?"

"Lucius killed Ron."

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"I don't believe it." Ginny crossed her legs, her brown eyes glaring at Harry's. "I just don't, Harry!" Harry sighed, rubbing his temples as the door to the restaurant creaked upon with a jingle. "Draco had no part in it."

"Regardless of his part in it, he is the only one who may be corresponding with Lucius that we know of. He knows things that we don't, Gin, and we have to find it out."

"But Harry, we don't even know where Draco is. He..." Ginny swallowed, moving her noodles around aimlessly with her fork. "He left, remember?" Harry looked at Ginny for a moment, his eyes searching hers, before nodding mutely and turning his eyes to the door of the café.

Ginny's head snapped up as she heard the sound of breaking china. Harry had dropped his coffee cup, the brown liquid splashing over the floor as Harry stared at a point beyond her head. Yet before Ginny could turn around she heard footsteps and suddenly there was a figure standing next to her, his stormy eyes unreadable.

"Hello, Virginia."

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