Warning: This story is going to contain some dark themes, and mature content. It will have some foul language, torture, death, rape. Don't read if you are offended!
A/N: Unfortunately I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling. That being said, this story disregards the ending of Deathly Hallows.
Prologue
6th Year
Hermione was looking for comfort. Comfort like the warmth of a cup full of her favorite tea, like the afternoon sunlight on her sheets as she drifted between sleep and waking. Comfort like the soft blanket that she wrapped around herself while reading 'Hogwarts: A History' until early dawn because she could not sleep, because her subconscious was too busy thinking of everything else. Comfort just like those arms she remembered, that voice she remembered, humming a familiar tune; endless warmth dropping into the deepest part of her soul.
These incredible things that made everyone feel like everything would be all right, but Hermione's comfort was gone.
...
Draco was looking for space. Space like the huge vastness of the universe. Like a large field of sunflowers that you could run through for hours without end. Space that would make him feel free and invincible. Space like those times that he remembered when he was still young and had no ties to people. No responsibilities.
Yet that freedom was now impossible to achieve. Instead his world was filled with duty, obligations, regret, and fear.
7th Year
"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get that sword? WHERE?"
Draco fought as hard as he could to stop his body from trembling, as he winced at the piercing sound of Granger's screams echoing throughout the Manor. He didn't know why he cared, why it bothered him in the least. After all, she was beneath him; filthy, dirty. Still, he had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from screaming along with her.
A metallic taste slowly filled his mouth, and he felt bile rising up in his throat. He willed himself to stare down at the cold tile beneath his feet and to not think. He counted to ten and breathed in and out of his nose.
In. Out. In. Out.
He swore that he could hear Weasley's uncontrollable bellowing in the cellars beneath them, and balled up his fists. The two were useless; unable to save their best friend, he thought bitterly.
He had known that it was them the moment that the Snatchers had dragged the trio in, all tied up. The moment that he peered down at Potter's jinxed face, his stomach had dropped. Granger had been quick on her feet, but it had not been enough. Still, he had lied.
"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"
He wanted to walk up to the stupid girl and to tell her to listen, to give in, so that the torture would stop. He did not think that he could listen to her crying out in pain for a moment longer. Why did she have to be so bloody loyal to her stupid friends? Was she really willing to sacrifice her own life for Potter and the Weasel?
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"
He wanted to tell Bellatrix to stop, to leave her alone. She was going to die. She was going to die in his fucking home.
A few moments later, the room went nearly silent. Granger's breathing became hitched, and her screams turned to muffled whimpers. Draco felt like a coward, he was too afraid to even lift his eyes to look up at her body. Afraid that he would find her dead.
The last time that he had stolen a glance, he had noticed that there was a thin cut on her pale cheek. Small droplets of blood were just starting to appear and he was mortified to find that they were pure red, like the roses in the garden out back that his mother was so fond of. Pure red, like his own blood. At that moment he felt pieces of what he had been taught all of his life shatter. He felt unnatural anger towards the dumb girl for confusing him this way.
He had to admit that the shine of being a Death Eater had worn off rather quickly for him. He went from an excited, over eager school boy, to a scared man. His disposition had always better resembled his mother's than his father's, and his mother was a kind woman. His father himself had become somewhat disillusioned with the Dark Lord.
There was no glory in serving a monster.
Still, they all had roles to play, and Draco removed all traces of emotion from his hard features as he prepared for whatever he would have to face next.
It was a simple game; he had to do what he had to do to survive, to keep his family safe. He might of hated himself for it, but at least he was alive.
...
"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
Hermione's listened as Voldemort's amplified voice spoke to all of Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and most of all to Harry. The trio exchanged dark looks before joining hands and running through a tunnel that lead back to the school.
The Great Hall was a big blur of moving figures. There was a putrid smell of death, and burning flesh. The wounded's cries of pain could be heard from every direction as Madam Pomfrey made her rounds. Even worse were the cries of anguish that came from families, and friends, mourning the loss of their loved ones.
Hermione quickly scanned the crowd before her breath caught in her throat. Standing in a corner were a group of familiar red heads, huddled around Fred's tattered body. She walked forward, unsure of how her legs were able to carry her without giving out.
Molly Weasley was on her knees, gently rocking back and forth, clutching on to her dead son's body. Beside them, Remus and Tonks lay next to each other, eyes closed, as though they were simply taking a short nap.
Tears swelled in Hermione's brown eyes, and she felt Ginny reach out and grab her hand. The two girls stood for what felt like an eternity, both having succumbed to loud sobs that escaped their small frames. But there was no time to dwell on those who had lost their lives in this horrible battle. They had to end this.
"Harry? Where is Harry?" Hermione finally choked out, raising her hand and wiping her eyes.
Ginny shook her head and looked around, searching for a mess of black hair.
He was gone.
Dread seized Hermione's mind as she thought of him venturing out alone, it wasn't safe. He had Snape's memories, certainly he was going to find a way to view them. There was one way she knew.
"Ron. Ronald, we have to go. We have to go now," she said, frantically pulling on Ron's arm.
He glanced at her, his face white as a ghost, eyes bloodshot. A few seconds ago he had been hugging all of his brothers, trying to comfort his mother. She could not take him away.
"Ron, I'm going to get Harry from Professor Dumbledore's old office. I will be right back okay?"
He barely nodded before turning away.
"Stay safe!" Ginny called after her.
She ran, ran as fast as she could through multiple corridors, and up the changing staircases. When she reached her destination she quickly noted that the gargoyle was rather battered, and proceeded without having to provide a password.
"Harry?" she called out.
The large circular room was completely empty. Even the portraits of the many Headmasters and Headmistresses were bare. Harry Potter was gone. Hermione didn't want for it to be true, but as she thought back on everything that they had learned she could only reach one conclusion.
"I open at the close."
The inscription on the snitch finally made sense to her.
Gathering whatever strength she had left Hermione pondered her options. She was always the one with the plan, but she no longer had the luxury of time. Harry needed her, she couldn't let him sacrifice himself. Making a decision, she made her way back downstairs, and towards the grounds, avoiding anyone who threw questions her way.
She ran past Hagrid's hut looming out in the darkness, until she reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Here she paused and caught her breath as a sudden chill overtook her. Dementors. Hermione knew that she would not be able to produce a Patronus, she was never much good at one. She threw herself forward, and tried to maneuver through the jagged branches that were now leaving deep cuts across her arms. She had to reach Harry. She had to stop Harry.
Suddenly, something large collided with her stomach, and she huddled over in pain. Gasping for air, Hermione tried to keep moving but instead sank to the ground.
"Stupid Mudblood bitch," a voice rang out, laughing. "You're too late."
Then everything went black.