31 Harry Potter Fan-fiction 25 - Radio

Plot: Several years after the battle at Hogwarts, a tired Draco Malfoy has just about reached his breaking point. Just as Draco is about to take his life into his own hands, a certain someone comes into it. Can Hermione make him feel once again?

Pairing: HG/DM

NOTE: Mentions and depictions of attempted suicide, so you have been warned. There is a sequel up that is also completed called Basket Case.

Prologue

The Call

"Testing, testing, one two three."

In the darkness came a voice that was so loud over the whooshing wind, that it would have been unmistakable if there had been anyone around to hear it. It was a voice that had been, at one point in its life, proud and arrogant and unbreakable, however, the crackling raspy undertone signified that something had gone horribly array. When he tested the Muggle device in the palm of his perspiring hand, his voice broke carelessly and he ran his free hand through his mess of hair, trying again. "If you are listening to this, then you're too late. By the time you can act, I'll already be dead." Overall, considering the surroundings, the man did not seem to fully blend in. While the sky was dark and churning and angry, the tall man was lean and still and obliging; he let the wind move his bow tie, which rest completely undone around his neck. He looked oddly pure in his white button-up shirt, which was rolled up to way past his elbows, and his mop of white blond hair; however, he was everything but. Despite his innocent presence, something desperate and knowing flickered in his eyes and, shakily, he wiped away sweating visage. On the forearm of his free wrist, a certain skeletal mark stood out unquestionably on his pale skin.

He said, "I am currently standing on the edge of the towering bridge nearest the village of Hogsmeade. If you are listening, I'd like you to know everything." The device in which to spoke into was small and black; a small and light two way radio. He cleared his throat and only just loosened his grip on the bridge's pillars. As he spoke, his foot trailed forward. "As I'm sure you know, it has been five years since the battle and no, I am not all right. But you already know that."

He released his finger from the little button and inhaled, looking over the edge of the staggering bridge. Below the water shimmered in the dark and reflected the twisted gray sky ahead of him. It wanted him now, pleaded for him to jump, but he couldn't do it, not just yet. There was still something he'd needed to address. Once again he lifted his quivering finger and pressed down on the button for the second time. With a nervous little laugh, he said almost stiffly, "And since you already know this, I will be merciful and considerably spare you the details."

The scenery around him almost fit the situation perfectly. There was something oddly dark about it and the sky looked as if it were undoubtedly threatening a storm. Dark gray clouds twisted and turned curiously in the sky and lifted the man's hair ever so slightly. In order to give himself something to do, the man busied himself with the task of sweeping his hair back behind his ears. It wasn't as if his hair was long, though it did sit only about two inches below his earlobes. He was, as it so seemed, a man of stone, but if that had been true, why did he feel himself crumbling?

His laughing stopped abruptly and he carried on with a moment of seriousness, "I want you to know that I am sorry, and that it doesn't mean much but I am sorry. It's true that I was absolutely dealt the cards I grew up with. But that doesn't mean I had to play." The man stopped and wondered how long the clouds would only just threaten rain, rather than fully deliver it. He asked himself silently whether or not he thought the person on the other end, if there even was anyone, could hear the swirling sound of the wind.

Once again he said, in case anyone was listening, "testing, testing, one, two."

"Testing, testing." His voice was quivering as he know repeated, "one, two, three."

He sighed next and tried to push his hair back into its proper place, for the wind had once again moved it. He was, as he voice had previous hinted, once a very proper man, highly anticipated by some but undoubtedly overestimated by his father. In particular, all the attention had made the man rather proud and cheeky, and the realization that he was not all this had, in fact, proved rather difficult. He'd spent the remainder of his life trying to figure out what, exactly, he had been. However, it was this that he hadn't quite figured out. Sulky and slumped now, he stood to straighten his posture and continue his last lecture through the little radio. He said through his own heavy breath, "what I want you to know- what I want the world to know- is that I remember every little thing about the battle at the school. I told the media that all I can remember is how tight his shoes were, because I everything else makes me numb. But you know as well as I that that was a lie." He spits with a hint of disgust, "when I got home, the first thing I could think of doing was to burn those shoes."

He continued rambling, this time unable to stop himself. "I don't know why I tell you the things that I do. I've tried to convince myself that it is a merely convenience. Maybe that is true, but I doubt it." He laughed, shaking his head, "I thought for a while it was because you were a good listener. All you ever do is listen."

"As for this dammed mark, it's unfortunately permanent. However," he once again peeked over the edge, "once I jump, I doubt it will concern me anymore." And then he grew comfortable. He crossed his legs at the ankle and slightly leaned backwards. "I don't know if I believe in Heaven or Hell, but I sure hope I don't go to Hell, though I reckon I don't truly have a choice in the matter." He said with a casual shrug, "believe it or not, I've always been pretty spiritual, but I do believe I am rambling."

He paused and chewed curiously on his bottom lip. After a long while he said into the device, "I know you're there."

"I can hear you-- have always heard you, breathing there on the other end." He was desperate now, almost pleading. Through it all, he felt a slight sinking feeling in his heavy chest. He suppressed what seemed to be a little sob and said through clenched teeth. "I know how you've been listening to me carry on about my life since the very beginning, but, once again, you already know that."

To be quite honest, his listener had known quite a lot. And how could they not know? He had been spilling his heart out over the radio for a rather long time over the past couple of months. He'd be admittedly surprised as to what the listener didn't know, actually. Whoever they were, wherever they were, they had heard it all. Wizard or muggle (because the last was, of course, quite a possibility), they had known every last bit of it.

The man's face dramatically paled and he smoothed back his blond hair in order to completely compose himself.

He stopped for another moment and then leaned forward emitting a curious whisper. He said anxiously, "who are you?"

There came no answer and the man who was commonly known as Draco Malfoy let his shoulders sink. What did he expect? The intruder had not once opted to speaking. Surely he hadn't been under the impression that tonight they would decide to step forward. However, the listener's coldness rather upset him. Were they truly not about to grant him one last glimpse of mercy before he plummeted to his own death? Had they really intended to decline assistance in his own personal attempt at closure?

He said desperately, "answer me!"

And then he heard it, the breathing on the other end. At first the odd intrusion scared him and his heart jumped several feet. Then, however, he relaxed himself and let the butterflies in his stomach settle. He listened momentarily to the unhinged breaths at the other end and then lost it. With all his might, he thrust the radio over the edge of the little bridge and watched it zoom to through the air. When it hit the surface of the water below, it made a little splash before sinking and then, finally, it vanished beyond sight. Chest heaving, ready to scream, Draco Malfoy stepped once again forward. "You know," he called down to the radio as if the person on the other end could still hear him, "I'm going to do it." But he couldn't help himself from sweating even more violently.

And then it came, something he didn't expect.

Out from the brush stood a tall and lean figure, almost just masked in the absolute darkness. It said nothing, muttered nothing, and then, he noticed something rather familiar. There at it's thin side, was the outline of a shadowy, small, and black radio.

Chapter End