Disclaimer: All recognizable Harry Potter characters and settings were created by JK Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

Intoxication

Rain pounded hard on the school grounds. The world had been crying for weeks. There was no more hope for the light side. We were all surprised that they'd lasted as long as they had. Personally, I think everyone had been waiting for Harry Potter to save them. He was killed almost a year to the day after Dumbledore had died.

It wasn't a particularly extraordinary battle. He had survived many which were much worse. Don't get me wrong, he died heroically. That bastard wouldn't go out any other way.

It was raining that night, and it hadn't stopped since. They'd met us in front of the castle, and it was easy to see that we outnumbered them by nearly 2 to 1. I recognized all of them at the time, but now remembered only a few faces. Potter was among them. He sought me out quickly, no doubt driven by revenge for the two Weasleys.

"Quick and clean tonight," our Lord had commanded. "Don't bother with injuries."

I keep that in mind as I weave and dodge between the swarming bodies, slicking my wet hair out of my face as raindrops slide down the back of my neck. It's difficult to see the curses flying back and forth through the pounding rain, and I feel disgusted with the dramatics. We could have waited until morning, and surely the outcome would be the same. But our Lord has a penchant for the shadows, so here we are.

I duck a shot from a girl who looks vaguely familiar. I can't place her. I fire back, and she falls. I step over the body, one of several already on the ground. It's almost too easy.

I turn, sensing someone's presence, and I dodge just in time to avoid a curse. Potter is stalking toward me in the darkness, almost unrecognizable, looking like fury incarnate. He throws another blow, which I avoid expertly while sending one back. He blocks it, and I smirk.

"You shouldn't waste your energy blocking," I call to him from yards away. The battle rages around us, and I'm not even sure he can hear me.

He remains stoic, intent on getting closer, and we continue our dance, throwing and dodging and blocking until he's close enough that I can see his eyes glitter with rage even through the driving rain.

"You shouldn't waste your energy talking," he counters.

I laugh, and it sounds strange in my own ears. "Excuse me if I don't start taking any tips from you and yours right now, Potter."

His mouth twists in an ugly snarl and his wand flashes again without warning. I throw myself to the side, but the curse strikes me hard in the shoulder. I stumble back, reeling, and can already see him preparing his kill shot. I'm off balance, struggling to do something, anything, but watch.

A female scream pierces the air.

Potter turns. It's my chance, but I'm distracted by the barely distinguishable forms across the lawn. Our Lord stands over a prone but writhing body.

Potter is already sprinting across the mud to reach them, furiously throwing curses as he runs.

The Dark Lord blocks all of them, his attention now on the boy. I see the prone form behind him begin to lurch upright. It's her.

Suddenly I'm running, too, my sights set on her. I see what will happen before it does. Potter is drawing closer. He must see her. He's the only one who can stop it.

She lifts her wand and begins to form words. Avada Kedavra. Someone yells. Only later will I realize that it was me. Finally, at the last second, Potter changes his trajectory.

Our Lord throws up a shield, and her curse is deferred and thrown back at her. In the blink of an eye, it's over.

And Harry Potter lay dead in the arms of the beautiful girl.

A few days later, Voldemort took over the Ministry of Magic. It had been nearly three weeks, and each night since, I'd been consumed by thoughts about the scream that penetrated the thick darkness that night. That moment gave me the chance to kill Potter, but I didn't take it. In that split second, I could have killed The Boy Who Lived, the living legend, the mortal enemy of the Lord I found myself forced to serve. But I didn't take it.

I'd shown weakness that night. Because of her. And if there was anything I had learned from my father, it was that weakness is not an option.

On the twenty-second night, our Lord decided we needed to take the rest of the castle.

It was supposed to be an easy operation. The only trick would be to make it inside without anyone noticing. We actually made it as far as the Great Hall undetected. They found us there, and that's where the fight began.

In any case, it wasn't a difficult battle. They didn't have a chance.

I was too caught up in the fight to have time to look for her. By the time we were done, all those who opposed us were dead. I tried to casually scan the bodies for that all-too-familiar chestnut hair, but I didn't find her. I'd had a feeling I wouldn't. Somehow, I'm sure I would have known if she'd died.

Our orders were to search the castle from top to bottom and kill everyone we found. I set off knowing exactly where I was going, but without knowing why. When I reached the portrait for the Gryffindor dormitories, the door was wide open. The portrait was slashed, and the Fat Lady had vacated.

I stepped carefully into the common room with my wand easily accessible in the sleeve of my robes. As I expected, the room was empty. Although Gryffindor had the highest number of students stay or return after they closed the school, most of them were gone by now.

Inexplicably, I still knew she was there. I walked slowly up the stairs to the girls' dorms. One by one, I opened the doors that lined the hall. After closing the door of the third room I checked, I eyed the last one. I pushed open the door, steeling myself for what lay ahead, though I had no idea what it may be.

But the room was empty. I'd been so sure she was here.

I retraced my steps back to the common room, preparing to leave and continue to follow through with orders. I was halted in my tracks at the sound of wind howling through an open window, coming from the boys' dormitories.

I climbed the stairs, and pinpointed the sound to the second door in the hall. I drew my wand and threw open the door.

My wand-wielding arm immediately fell limply to my side.

Hermione Granger sat on the sill of the open window, staring out at the lake on the edge of the grounds. As I burst through the door, she slowly turned her head to look at me, and I nearly gasped out loud.

She had quite literally wasted away. Her usually bushy chestnut hair hung limply around her shoulders. Being wet from the rain, a few strands stuck to her face and neck. Her skin was as white as a ghost's, except for the dark circles under her eyes. Her eyes were her most haunting feature, so different from when I had seen them those three long weeks ago. Even from across the lawn, I had seen them sparking with fury and determination.

This girl looked at me blankly with shallow, dull eyes. Her expression was vacant.

An eternity passed as we stared at each other. I couldn't break my gaze. I was desperate for this contact, desperate to be connected.

She was the first to break the silence in a voice that was almost a whisper. "Will you do me a favor, Malfoy?"

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. So I answered as I would have a year ago. "Probably not, but that depends on what it is."

She gazed at me a moment longer in silence, then turned back to look out into the darkness. Finally she turned back to me, gazing with that same empty look in her eyes that made me think she didn't even see me. "Will you promise to make it quick?"

A single tear escaped her. My gaze traced its path over her cheekbone, much more pronounced than it had been three weeks ago, then down to her jawbone. It hung precariously for a moment before falling onto her hands, clasped in her lap. One single tear shed for her world, lost.

Before I knew what was happening, I took three long strides and grabbed her by her upper arms, pulling her roughly to her feet. She stumbled and was pressed even closer to me. A current of electricity surged through my veins, lighting me on fire, quickly followed by a flush of ice water. My skin was blazing everywhere it was in contact with hers. I stared into her eyes; vacant, haunting, and yet still hopelessly intoxicating. We were connected, and I knew that she understood. I didn't know how and I didn't know why. But then my mouth was on hers, and none of it mattered.

Her lips were cold as they met mine. My right hand trailed slowly up her arm to her neck, and my fingers lightly traced her collarbone, then tangled in her hair. My tongue delicately traced the line of her bottom lip before I sucked on it gently. Her lips parted, granting me access, and our tongues met, adding fuel to the flames still burning under my skin.

Her arms, which had been hanging limply at her sides, came up to embrace me and pull us closer together. I tugged at her hair, still entwined around my fingers, and she moaned. My free hand came down to rest on her hip, keeping her in place.

In that moment, the world stopped. Nothing else existed. We ravished each other. I could literally feel our mouths generating heat together. It was pure, unadulterated passion.

Eventually we pulled apart, both breathing heavily. She was shaking, and I kept my arms around her to support her weight. She looked up at me again, and for the first time that night I recognized emotion in her eyes. We both knew the inevitable was coming.

I carried her in my arms away from the window, hugging her close to my body. I gently set her down on the bed, never taking my eyes off hers.

"I promise." My words tasted strange in my mouth.

I slowly leaned down to kiss her forehead. And then I killed her.