Welcome to my first fanfiction publication ever! This story is told third-person limited (Hermione) but will be posted again as another third-person limited (Draco)...crimson for Hermione and emerald for Draco...okay, that's about it! Enjoy!

The Unbreakable Vow

***Crimson Edition***

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's quite sad.

Chapter One

Ghastly luminescent rays of silver and crimson muddled with green and gold erupted in the black sky, casting eerie shadows across the grassy valley that lay just outside Hogsmeade. The momentary explosions of light left the world naked and bare, revealing the cruel horrors that the wizarding world had been facing for many months now. Silhouettes of the fallen lay strewn through the land, proof that both sides had failed to elude death.

It was a horribly brusque scene; the thin creeks tainted with the blood of the wounded, the iridescent stars hidden by the thick smoke that clouded the air. Still, dark figures flitted through the tall grass, throwing curses and spells at any who opposed. It was madness.

Hermione Granger hurried through the grass, her fiery brown eyes scanning the fields desperately as she searched for a familiar face, her wand brandished. The incantation of the killing curse rang through the night air, blending with the melodic screams in a haunting duet.

This was not the life she had envisioned having. When she had been in school, she had wanted a simple life: possibly own a bookshop and have a family. But being best friends with Harry Potter in a time of endless war had decided her life for her. She could not abandon him as the world began to crack from the rising power of Lord Voldemort, especially when Harry was in the center of it all.

She was living a life that had been chosen for her and after all she had seen, all she had done, Hermione was not sure if she could classify her lifestyle as living.

No, she wasn't living.

She was simply surviving.

The smell of distant smoke clouded her senses and she managed to a short glance over her shoulder to see many of the buildings in Hogsmeade glowing with fire; the flames licked possessively at the sky.

A brief spark of concern for Fred and George Weasley flickered in the back of her head, but it was immediately extinguished; she wouldn't let herself believe they were dead. A building collapsed abruptly, another billow of smoke released into the sky. It was a painfully disturbing image, but Hermione found it difficult to rent her gaze from the wreckage.

She suddenly realized she was running. Her feet pounded heavily beneath her, subconsciously avoiding the bodies of her fallen comrades and enemies. Her chest tightened in defiance as she pushed herself further, refusing to accept the chaos that surrounded her.

A figure apparated fifteen yards ahead of her, startling Hermione to a stop. Judging by the broad shoulders and height, she could only assume it was a man. Like most Death Eaters, he wore long black robes and a silver mask; though, she noticed that his mask was slightly cracked, undoubtedly from a previous battle with one of her allies.

Hermione pushed the thought to the back of her head. It was simply too unbearable to imagine it being a duel against anyone she knew personally.

"Oh, it's Potter's filthy little mudblood friend."

The deep voice sounded vaguely familiar to her ears; it was likely that he had been a Slytherin at Hogwarts a few years back with Hermione, before it had been shut down by the ministry and then destroyed by the Death Eaters.

Hermione pushed the terrible images of the ruins she had once called home out of her head; now was not the time for such thoughts.

She looked ahead towards her enemy. She could feel him staring at her with unseen eyes; it was unnerving. They stood staring at each other, each with wands raised for a long moment before he took a short step forward.

"Well, I suppose it's time I--"

Hermione didn't let him finish.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried out, a flash of gold light emitting from her wand.

The force of the spell knocked the Death Eater back a step, his own wand falling a few yards from Hermione's feet. His mask fell to the ground, cracked decisively through the middle. Long black hair hung beneath the hood and his dark beady eyes stared at her in surprise.

Theodore Nott.

He suddenly howled in laughter, the sound making Hermione flinch. He was wandless, facing one of the most brilliant witches in the wizarding world, yet he had the audacity to laugh.

"What will you do now?" he called out to her, a cruel smile etched in his unattractive features. "Kill me?"

It's a challenge, she realized as he took a step towards her mockingly, his expression smug. Hermione managed to glare at him.

"Impedimenta!"

Nott was forced back by the jinx, but he continued to laugh at her.

"You haven't got it in you, Granger," he went on and Hermione felt somewhat surprised that he remembered who she was. "You won't kill me; you've never killed anyone in your entire life. You're a coward!"

Hermione barely realized that she was backing away from him. Though not entirely accurate, there was some truth behind his words; despite being one of Harry Potter's closest and most loyal friends, she had only been forced to take a life on three separate occasions; with the possibility of a fourth sneering at her from ten yards away, she wasn't sure she even had the courage to do the unthinkable task. Witnessing death was one thing, being the cause was something entirely different.

"Impedimenta," she repeated, forcing him back another few steps.

"Coward," he screamed gleefully, basically skipping towards her at this point, his eyes staring at her maniacally. Hermione took another step back, frustrated tears beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

Having a heart and refusing to murder my enemies does not make me a coward, she tried to remind herself. Does it?

Her head buzzed painfully as she tried to answer her own question. Through the war, it had been her wits that had kept her alive. She had had a few near misses, but in the end, she had survived. She had let her allies do the killing while she simply avoided being killed herself.

Did that make her a coward?

Hermione suddenly shook her head furiously.

"I am not a coward!" she cried out, not quite sure if she was trying to convince Nott or if she was still trying to convince herself. The hysterical tone of her own voice surprised her.

The Death Eater came to an abrupt stop, glancing down knowingly. Hermione froze when she realized that he was staring down at his wand which lay in the soft grass at his feet. She had backed up at least ten yards when he had started advancing towards her. Mildly impressed with his cleverness, she grew angry with herself for not seeing his ploy sooner.

He continued to stare down at the wand, but instead of bending down to pick it up, he looked up at Hermione, the laughter still evident in his eyes.

"Here's your chance, Mudblood," he whispered lightly. "Go ahead and kill me."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief, hand trembling slightly. She had experienced the cold repercussions of death in her own life and had refused to inflict that same agony on anyone unless there was no other choice.

Even if they deserved it, who was she to be the judge? Killing someone was a powerful feeling, but it was a feeling Hermione could go the rest of her life without experiencing again.

Through the war, she had always been clever enough to avoid killing unless absolutely necessary. Was it absolutely necessary now?

The battle raged in her head as she raised her wand.

"Avada--" she started, but she lost her gumption, her thoughts already focused on finding a different solution.

"Impedimenta!" she cried out again, trying to force him away from the wand. A small part of her hoped that if she could simply prevent him from killing her, they could both survive.

Unfortunately, her hope was immediately smothered.

Nott had expected her tactics and dodged the jinx with more grace than expected from such a large man. His cruel smirk was replaced with a solemn expression as he stared at Hermione with such intensity that she actually lowered her wand a few inches.

She felt her heart pound in her chest; it had been necessary to kill him, she decided somberly, her eyes flashing at him. And now it was too late.

"My turn," he muttered, his voice so quiet it was nearly lost in the chaos that surrounded them. His hand shot towards his wand before Hermione could protest.

"Avada Kedavra."

A flash of green lit the area, the force of the curse whipping Hermione's messy curls over her shoulders. As the light ebbed away, Nott could be seen sprawled out along the grass, his arm out stretched towards his wand, but his fingers were inches away. His eyes stared up at her, glassy and lifeless.

He was dead.

Hermione stared at the body, her body frozen with a strange mix of relief and disgust. It took her a long moment before she realized that she hadn't been the caster of the curse.

Soft whispered words from behind her cut into her thoughts with subtle ease.

"He would have killed you."

The masculine voice that met her ears was as vaguely familiar as Nott's had been, but it was different. It was soft and unyielding but there was something undeniably comforting about the cold drawl; perhaps because it was the voice of whoever had just saved her life.

Hermione turned away from the Death Eater slowly, his body still burned in mind. She looked up at her savior, noticing that he was adorned in long black robes similar to Nott's.

Another Death Eater, she thought, staring at him, wondering why he wore no mask.

The young man stood over her by a few distinct inches, his sharp pale features only enhanced by the indifference in his narrowed grey eyes. Though he couldn't be much older than her, Hermione decided that the dark circles under his eyes were a clear sign that he had seen horrors she could only imagine. He was frustratingly familiar with his sleek silver-blonde hair.

She was suddenly irritated; she just couldn't understand why he was so disturbingly familiar.

But when his lips curled into a smirk, she gasped in sudden realization.

"Draco Malfoy," she whispered breathlessly, taking a reflexive step away from him.

"Granger," he said softly in return, the smirk on his face only emphasized by his tone.

Hermione eyed him carefully, terribly conflicting thoughts buzzing in her head.

Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, loyal Death Eater, and second only to the Dark Lord himself had just saved her life. Not only had he saved her life, he had killed one of his own in order to do so, and he had done it so casually, so easily that it made Hermione's stomach churn.

The two truths didn't make sense, she thought, incredibly perplexed, especially together.

Hermione glared at him, raising her wand angrily. His smirk vanished.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, her voice less controlled than she would have hoped, especially in front of Malfoy. But her confusion quickly gave way to frustration as she barked at him, "Why?"

Malfoy simply stared at her and Hermione saw a flicker of conflict in his eyes. He eyed her carefully, her own uncertainty mirrored in his expression. They stood there a long moment before he glanced at her wand before meeting her gaze again.

"Here's your chance, Mudblood," he whispered darkly, using the same words Nott had used earlier. Hermione shivered at the sound of his surprisingly smooth voice. "Go ahead and kill me."

Hermione's hand tightened on her wand. If anyone in the world deserved to die, it was Draco Malfoy. She had heard the stories of all the horrific things he had done, the people he had tortured and killed, the families he had torn apart; he had done many evil things.

Yet, he had chosen to save her life.

She stared up at him and came to a startling realization.

She couldn't kill him; she owed him her life.

Malfoy seemed to sense her hesitation and stepped forward, the tip of her wand pressed lightly against his chest. Hermione's eyes widened and she tried to lower her wand, but his strong hands caught hers, holding it in place.

"Kill me," he said solemnly before adding, "please."

Their eyes met in an intense moment, bewildered brown clashing with pensive grey until two easily recognizable voices rang out in the night.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort's cries blended ominously, as Hermione tore her gaze from Malfoy in time to see the cursed green lights streak the sky

All other explosions had ceased, and an eerie silence swept through the land. Through the tall grass, Hermione saw everyone, allies and Death Eaters alike, turn their heads towards the fading green light. Even from a distance, they all knew it was a moment that would be etched in history forever, a moment that would define the future of the wizarding world.

"Harry," she whispered, pulling herself away from Malfoy, sprinting towards the scene.

Her eyes could barely make out a tall figure looming triumphantly over a fallen heap on the ground. She studied the distant body that was splayed out in the grass, her breath getting caught in her throat when she noticed the dim moonlight reflecting off a pair of broken glasses.

And suddenly she knew.

"No!"

She continued to run towards him as the anguished cry left her lips. The sound was heart-wrenching and penetrated the thick silence that engulfed the valley, resonating through the grassy area. The triumphant roars of the Death Eaters and the despairing wails of the Order echoed all around her in response as Hermione answered the unspoken question.

Harry Potter was dead.

Well, let me know what you think! :)