DISCLAMER: I do not own Harry Potter. DON'T MOCK ME.


He watched her writhing on the floor in pain, suffering from the after effects of the Cruciatus curse. He couldn't help but chuckle darkly at the pathetic state her body was in. Blood was oozing out from her mouth continuously, staining the floor she was on, and her hands were sticking out in rather odd angles. Her eyes were bloodshot and dry tears stained her cheeks. After each and every second, she would let out a whimper of pain. The sound of it was pleasure to his ears.


After the downfall of Voldemort, many death eaters defected and ran away. Several people thought he defected too, but it was all just an act. He hated the fact that The Boy Who Lived succeeded once again, along with that blood traitor and Mudblood. He left the others behind and went into hiding in a forest not too far from the Manor called the Saltus Miseria.

Out in the forest, he made a shelter of his own. He didn't eat. He didn't want to. He tortured people whom he regarded as filth. It was a past time and he found it so enjoyable.

He wanted to get back the respect his family name so rightfully deserved once more, to rise one day and become even more powerful than Voldemort. He didn't want to be known as the coward who couldn't kill his own headmaster.

He hated everything.
He hated everyone.
He never loved.
He never knew how to.

And even though he knew his mother loved him more than his father ever did, he still ran away.

He didn't belong there.
He wanted revenge.

He felt like a worthless being after he was saved by the Golden Trio in the war.

He was ashamed.
Ashamed of the fact that he couldn't save himself.
Ashamed of the fact that he couldn't save his friend.


He often visited the nearby shops in a hooded cloak, so that he wouldn't be recognized, and bought the Daily Prophet to know what was going on in the Wizarding World.

After finding out that the Mudblood was heading off to the same forest he was in to look for some special herbs on a medicine she was working on, he was delighted.

This was the opportunity to finally be recognized again.
It would all be in the news and he imagined how the headlines would be.

'Hermione Granger, one third of the Golden Trio, missing since research in the forest of Saltus Miseria. Traces of blood found. Could a doppelgänger of Voldemort be on the rise?'

Oh yes, it was perfect.


He counted the days she would arrive in the forest by little markings on the wall which looked like a calendar created by the sharp edge of a stone.

One more week.

Five more days.

Three more days.

Today.

He was so ecstatic that one would think he was mental.

It was no doubt that one would actually think he was mental considering that he looked as if he hadn't slept for years because of his bulging eyes. His face had become thinner too. Too thin. He had lost all the flesh in his cheekbones owing to the fact that he starved himself each day. His clothes were dirty, as well. Much too big for his scrawny form.

As soon as he heard footsteps not too far from his shelter, he hid behind a tree and waited for a glimpse of the bushy brown hair he was so familiar with.

This was it.
This was his first step to victory.

He caught a whiff of perfume, which he recognized as vanilla, and immediately knew it was her.

Sure he hated her because she was a Mudblood, but nobody could deny the fact that she was indeed attractive. However, that was not what he was focused on now. He was solely focused on revenge. The thoughts of being powerful and having everyone bow down to your every need invaded his mind and he couldn't help but grin in immense satisfaction.

Salazar Slytherin, the image of being victorious looked beautiful.
Perfect.
Serene.

And it was what he exactly wanted.

As soon as he caught sight of her, he slowly crept up towards the trees behind her, warily remaining silent so he wouldn't be noticed. Carefully, he disarmed and silenced her so that no one could hear her screams of pain as he casted the unforgivable curses on her.


He loved watching her suffer.
He loved watching her trying to scream for help, and giving up seconds later because she decided that it was no use.
Pity, really, that he'd have to ruin her in order to get what he wanted.

"CRUCIO."
"CRUCIO."
"CRUCIO."

He'd repeat it, minute after minute, smirking at the sight of filth squirming in pain right under his feet.

"SCREAM, MUDBLOOD, SCREAM!"

He'd chant over and over again, taunting her as she'd attempt to shout for help once more.


He was waiting for something.

Just a few more seconds, and...

There.

She was finally gushing out blood onto the damp forest floor.

The first evidence that her rescuers would find once they start looking for her.

But... He noticed something queer.

Her blood was red.
Like his.

He was disgusted.
It shouldn't be the same.
She was a Mudblood, her blood was supposed to be filthy.

Impossible, but, whatever.

He didn't care.

He waited until she finally passed out and knelt down beside her.

He touched the blood which stained the forest floor with his fingers and smelled it.
It smelled metallic.
Just like his.
Just like everyone else's.
Of course he'd have known.

He had seen the bloodshed of many blood traitors during the war, all of them murdered as if they were savage dogs.

Her blood was supposed to be different.

How... odd.

He studied her face and noticed how much she had changed after the war. It was a pity that such a pretty face would be ruined in just a matter of time.

"Having a good life with Potty and the Weasel, I'm sure of it," muttered Draco darkly, secretly envying the fact that she was having the time of her life while he was all alone in the forest, behaving as if he was some pathetic hermit.

He pushed all these thoughts aside and levitated her limp and bruised form over to his shelter while grinning delightedly as he dropped her onto the cold, hard ground of his new home.

His revenge had just begun.


Reviews, please!