"I can't," he whispered, tears prickling his blue-grey eyes just thinking about it. "You know I can't, you know why I can't..." He lowered his head so that his father would not see his sorrow.
"I am not giving you a choice," his father replied. "I know why you cannot, and that is another reason why you must. It's too dangerous... much too dangerous... to keep her around."
"But... I love her." He looked back up then, not bothered that his father would see the tears flowing down his pale cheeks, the deep pain in his eyes.
"If you do not kill her," his father said slowly, "I will. And then I will have to kill you." There was no pity in his face as he regarded his son coldly. "Draco, where do your loyalties lie? With us... or with the girl?"
There was only one thing he could answer with. He didn't have a choice. He swallowed, and lowered his eyes. "With you, with us, of course, Father."
"You will complete your task?" His father was stern and crisp. The question was asked silkily, smoothly, as if they had been talking about the weather, and not the impending murder they were planning.
His lips trembled, and a sob rose in his throat. Kill me now... "I... I..." He swallowed, and forced himself to answer, hating himself for saying it. "Yes. Yes, I will, Father. She will be gone by tomorrow morning."
And as his father left, Draco Malfoy crumpled to the floor in a heap, crying in anguish, tangling his fingers in his white-blonde hair, his body shaking in sheer horror at what he was going to have to do.
She arrived at The Eagle pub at exactly seven o'clock. She went to the Muggle pub every night, to spy. This was where he had met her again two weeks ago. At first they had argued and bickered quietly, perfectly aware of the face they could not attack each other here. But gradually, they had started to fall for each other. Last night, they had kissed before she left.
But she was here now. Her golden skin seemed to glow in the lights of the pub. Her loose brown curls were damp with the rain. She was dressed in that lace up brown t-shirt and tight jeans. She didn't notice him straight away; she went to the bar and bought a wine before spotting him.
"I wasn't expecting you to come," she admitted as she sat down on the chair beside his. "I thought it might be too... awkward for you."
He swallowed. She looked so pretty sitting there, smiling softly at him. He noticed she was wearing glittery gold eyeshadow. It looked nice. "Why would it be awkward?" he asked, making his voice soft and easy, smiling warmly. "This is the best thing that has happened to me in a long time."
She laughed. "Oh, Draco, you make it sound so simple. What would our- er... respective sides say if they found out about us? They would forbid it, you know that, or use it against us."
He felt a pang at her words, but forced himself not to let it show. He took her hand. "Hermione, I love you. What could be more simple than that?" He saw her blush prettily. "But I will admit we need to talk about it, and this is not the place. Shall we go back to my flat?"
She appeared flustered. "Oh... I'm not sure. They might be watching your place, you know." She sighed, and drained her wine in one mouthful. He saw she was quite nervous.
"Darling... you're right," he admitted, leaning forward to whisper seductively into her ear. "But I do know of another place we can go. Nobody will be there... nobody knows about it..."
She nodded, and they stood up. He threaded his fingers through hers as they walked out of the pub and into the night. She was leading him over to a motorcycle. He gave a gasp of surprise. She was full of surprises.
"Hermione, I never knew you rode a motorbike," he said as she tossed him a helmet. She merely shrugged and winked, and he pulled his helmet on in thoughtful silence, climbing on the bike behind her and slipping his arms around her waist. She was so warm. He gave her directions, then held on tightly as they sped through the night.
She smelled beautiful. He leaned down to gently kiss her neck, making her giggle and send the motorcycle veering rather dangerously around a corner.
"Stop it!" she laughed. "You'll make me crash this thing."
He merely laughed, then sighed sadly. They were slowing down, heading into a desolate Muggle housing estate, towards the tower block at the very back of the place. The rain was heavier now as they stopped, and took off their helmets.
"Come on in," he invited, taking her hand as they ran inside. The lobby was empty and cool, and the place was clearly abandoned. Draco didn't wait for her to say something. He cupped her soft cheeks in his hands and kissed her. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and head, giving into him.
"How far do you want this to go?" she whispered as their lips became detached for a second. Her warm breath tickled his face, her beautiful eyes glittering up at him. They closed as he kissed her lips softly.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. He pulled out of her arms and wandered over to an upturned box, sitting on it. He was going to have to kill her, kill Hermione, kill the only woman he had ever loved. No, no, he could not do it. He could not take her life. But he had to.
As a tear rolled down his cheek, he looked up at her. She appeared to be equally sad, walking slowly over to him with tears in her eyes. He stood up, confused, as she began to speak.
"You need to know that I love you. I love you so much. And I never wanted this, never ever, but I don't a choice, Draco, my angel. I'm so, so sorry."
She reached him, and he realised what was happening with a jolt as her hand drifted towards her back pocket; the place where her wand would be. Some three seconds later, the heartbroken cry of the killing curse filled the air, and there was a green flash.
A silent tear trickled down Hermione's face. Draco's eyes widened in horror, and he felt his throat tighten. Hermione's eyes closed tightly. Draco felt his soul dying. He was sure her lips curled in a soft smile, and her fingers closed around his for a moment, before suddenly pulling away.
Hermione fell, dead, to the floor.
Her wand was still in her hand, but she had not been quick enough. Draco lowered his own wand, and gave an angry, bitter cry.
"Are you proud of me, Father?"