Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. I do own my right to fantasize. See what I did there?

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Chapter 1 – Rotten Egg

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When the Chief Warlock stated the verdict, I did not know how to describe my reaction.

I was feeling multiple emotions, all at once.

I felt fear for I was condemned to spend five years in Azkaban and then be banished from the magical realm as soon as my fifth year of imprisonment is accomplished.

I felt frustration that my father was given a life sentence in Azkaban, despite the fact that he was already dying from a terminal curse inflicted during the war.

I felt grief at the idea that my father will die at a cold prison cell, awaiting a dementor's kiss or his terminal curse to kill him.

I felt traces of happiness, knowing that my mother will not be sent to Azkaban because she indirectly saved Potter's life.

I felt immense sadness that my mother will be on house arrest for the rest of her life, and that I am not to catch a glimpse of her unless she is dying or dead.

I felt hatred for the situation that I am in, hatred for the mistakes that my family committed.

But the most prominent emotion that I felt was relief.

I felt relief that I was not supposed to die. I felt relief that I will still be alive in the end.

I felt relief, and this relief made me feel so wrong and guilty.

I felt guilty.

I felt guilty because my parents are given heavier consequences whereas I have been given a lighter sentence simply due to my age.

I felt guilty because eventually my suffering will end someday, but my parents will continue to suffer until they die.

I felt guilty.

I felt so guilty.

I deserved a heavier sentence, I know that. I do. But I can't..I can't say a word at that time.

I just felt that I didn't have the right to say my opinion.

I felt so guilty.

"That is the best deal we could get, boy. Don't worry, you have a long life ahead of you." My assigned barrister commented, patting my back as soon as my family was sentenced; he wore a fake smile which I actually found comforting. At least he treated me as a human, not a pariah.

I tried to smile back..but I couldn't even let my eyes to regard the barrister's reluctant kindness.

Other than being spoken to, I didn't dare to look at anyone else. I didn't want to see the disgusted look on their faces. I didn't want to see their anger or their pained look for dealing with someone like me. I already know that they didn't want me to be around, I don't want to further torture myself by watching them express their repulsed faces.

Stepping off from the booth, I do my best to screen out the outrage from the audience.

I tried distracting myself with visions of sitting by the sea on a sunny afternoon, watching the wind shift fronds of coconut trees. I can hear the ocean calling, feel the sun warm up my skin. The breeze feels nice and cool as it combs my hair.

For a second, I thought that I was actually there because I feel a cool sensation at the back of my head.

But I was wrong.

A gust of tropical wind wasn't brushing the back of my head.

Someone from the room threw an egg on the back of my head.

And then I hear a roar of laughter from behind, ridiculing me thoroughly.

The egg smelled, it was rotten.

I have never felt so embarrassed in my life, so disgruntled to the point that I paused and simply stood.

The insult was completely medieval, intentionally done in a way that muggleborns insult each other.

The rotten egg was a message, the rotten egg was a way to insult the blood supremacy which was ingrained to me since I was born.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know whether I should shout at all of them, curse them to oblivion, or simply walk away.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel gentle pats at the spot where the egg hit me. Someone out of the crowd, decides to wipe off the foul liquid dripping slowly to my worn coat. The gesture was so strange, it was gentle and endearing. Ever since the war began, any form of affection was taken away from me. Even a kiss or hug from my mother was not allowed at the manor. And then..this gentle caress.

This unforeseen pity made me feel so much comfort.

Comfort at the idea that I was not completely hated. Comfort that I am not completely damned.

My eyes started to water, threatening to spill from my face.

But I will myself not to show this vulnerable emotion.

I will myself not to cry. I won't give them that satisfaction.

I may be a bastard in their eyes, but I won't let them show how weak I really am towards to their insults.

"You'll be alright..you can get through this.." The person who is helping me, states with a female voice.

The room grew quiet, as I was being given such kindness. So much so that I wanted to know the person who decides to go against the majority.

I want to know this righteous, defiant fool who decides to wipe off my well-deserved humiliation.

I look behind me and shuddered, gaping at the person beside me who is still cleaning remnants of the egg from my neck.

The person..is Hermione Granger.

"You can survive..have a different life." She continues to encourage, ignoring my stunned composure.

Instantly, my knees feel weak and cold sweat started to perspire from the sides of my face.

I see flashbacks of her, being tortured in the manor. I hear her screaming in front of me, screaming for her life.

I started to shiver uncontrollably, right in front of her.

I close my eyes shut, wanting the past to go away, hoping that she would leave me.

I can handle the crowd, I can handle their hatred.

What I cannot handle however, is looking at her directly in the eyes. Her eyes that are only exudes compassion.

Her compassionate eyes, her sad lips, her concerned face..everything about her.

I don't need it..I don't deserve it.

I don't deserve her compassion. I don't deserve her mercy.

Without asking my permission, without asking whether it was okay, she took my trembling hand with hers.

Her hands, are warm and..confident. She doesn't squirm from touching me..she is treating me like any typical human being.

Another rush of comfort washes over me, but then I see the gauze wrapping her arm.

The gauze wraps the arm which Aunt Bella scarred.

I recall that night. I recall her screaming at my floor. I recall the word that is now branded underneath the gauze.

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

Mudblood.

I cringe.

"Malfoy.." She calls me, disrupting my rampant thoughts.

Still holding my quivering hand, she fold the cloth she used to wipe off the rotten egg from my head. There are still remnants of the egg under my cloak, I guess she decided that I would clean up the rest.

The cloth is a pale blue handkerchief, now tainted with splotches of green and yellow goo.

"Thank you." I managed to say faintly, doing my best to control my urge to run away.

Her eyebrow quirk slightly from what I have stated, she is understandably surprised that I would express gratitude.

But she doesn't know..She doesn't know that this might actually be the only chance that I would thank her.

I may not be worthy to apologize for all the things I have done to her, for treating her like filth, for letting her be tortured.

But I should at least..thank her. Thanking her is all I can offer.

"You're welcome." Granger replies quietly.

Having given the proper etiquette of being grateful, I realize that I wasn't as conscious as I was – about the crowd that is now simply staring at the both of us.

I regained a little bit of my pride for thanking her.

Seeing as I can finally leave in peace, I decided to leave before I crumble on my knees from exhaustion.

With as much integrity as I could muster, I keep my eyes forward and followed the guards to Azkaban.

Still holding the cloth used to clean the rot from my head, I grip it tightly.

The piece of cloth reminds me of the sky, something I will look forward to after I pay for my sins.

Hell might be waiting for me at the other side, but I think I can endure it now.

When I make it, when I managed to survive, I will leave this place of suffering..this world where I have failed.

I will leave to go somewhere far away, somewhere that is not bleak or cold from the aftermath of war.

Perhaps I will be lying beside the sea on a sunny afternoon, watching the wind shift fronds of coconut trees.

I would be in a place where I can hear the ocean calling, feel the sun warm up my skin.

A place where the breeze feels nice and cool as it combs my hair.

A place where I can begin again.

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I woke this morning
And much to my dismay
The snows been falling
It's been coming down since yesterday
I go outside
To try and start my car -
Three hours later
I haven't gone very far

- Tom Felton