Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and its characters.
Kill her. Kill her, and be done with it, the cold voice hissed, like an icy puppet master. She is of no use to you.
Draco knew the voice was right, there was no point denying it; in a swift motion, he raised his wand, preparing to utter the curse that would empty the eyes of this snivelling whelp forever.
But he stopped; froze in his movements. She'd said his name, in nothing more than a weak whisper, a smouldering remain of what used to an inferno of determination.
What are you doing? Kill her, you wretched boy. KILL HER!
But even as the voice rose in a terrifying crescendo, it was like a murmur in Draco's mind. He stared down at the form at his feet, the long bushy brown hair flowing over it, subconsciously begging to have it speak again. His wand shuddered in his hand very suddenly, and Draco spoke, in a voice that was not, his own, but high and frigid.
"Crucio!"
She withered and screamed, but did not yield. Draco was confused at deciding whether this was supposed to please or pain him.
I knew you would fail me. Weak! Weak!
Draco – or perhaps Voldemort – raised the wand once more with murder swelling in his chest, opening his mouth to speak those dreadful words –
"Draco."
She'd done it again … his name … Draco's wand hand faltered.
The figure at his feet, raised her head, meeting eyes with Draco; and Draco recognised the big brown eyes of Hermione Granger.
A small sound of a whimper escaped her lips, closing her eyes, two things happened simultaneously. The first was that a dark crimson colour escaped her lips and the second was that a tear found its way down her cheek.
Draco felt a sensation then; pain shot through his chest, where his once cold heart took its heart. The pain of that was combined with what felt like the tearing of his soul; he sucked in and screamed, or at least tried to, but only a weak cry came out before he collapsed to the cold stone floor.
He looked up weakly, his eyes filled with tears as he focused on the dark shape before his eyes, as it towered over the Mudblood. Long white fingers beckoned her upwards; an invisible force was dragging her to her feet. Draco's heart seemed as if it had stopped; Voldemort had exited Draco's body, furious to be confined to the abilities of a coward.
The white fingers brought out a wand, and with a slight flick of it, Hermione stopped, rooted to the spot before him, unable to move, forced to look at him.
"Avada –"
"NO!"
Draco lunged forward, his strength suddenly returning to him, drawing out his wand; placing himself between her and Voldemort.
"Kedavra!"
The curse hit him squarely in the chest and he crumpled, seeing only Hermione's face losing its entire colour as she screamed what Draco thought was his name before everything faded into blackness … perhaps, Draco knew, for the last time.
Had Draco Malfoy been able to watch he would have seen Hermione run towards him, taking his head into her arms. He would have seen Voldemort's white fingers hoist his wand, would have heard "Avada Kedavra"; and then would have seen Hermione's body fall lifeless beside him.
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