Draco leaned back in his chair. The muscles in the back of his neck ached, and his eyes closed involuntarily. He heaved a sigh and quite suddenly broke down. At his father's desk, in the middle of Malfoy Manor, he began to cry his soul out. The pains and frustration ripped from his mouth, as his entire body shook uncontrollably. He soon began screaming, first begging God, then taunting God, then proclaiming that God did not have a soul, did not have a heart. And then Draco screamed for his own lost heart, for the pain he had felt when it ripped away, and finally, after hours of crying, he found it. That blissful trail, overgrown and hidden in the depths of the mind, which humans can only find if they search. He found the road that led to insanity, and took it with strides borne of desperation and the all encompassing desire to escape a virtual hell.

Three Hours Earlier:

His ash grey eyes widened imperceptibly as he watched the next victim brought into the room, screaming her fury. She looked like… but no, it couldn't be, could it? Hermione Granger would not be stupid enough to be in this position; would she? Her face looked up defiantly to the slithery being on the black velvet throne, and Draco could barely suppress a gasp. It was her. Those eyes, soul-deep, all encompassing, knowing, and beautiful beautiful brown; Draco would know those eyes anywhere. They were the same colors that haunted his dreams, which spurned his secret fantasies and awakened the morality within him.

Hermione spit at the Dark Lord's feet, and Draco vaguely heard Bellatrix hissing in the background. The Dark Lord smiled cruelly down at the young, defiant witch, and pointed his wand at her. Hermione looked him square in the eye, and somehow managed to stand, although her hands were tied and bleeding behind her back. Her chin lifted slightly, and she smiled at Voldemort.

"Do your worst," she challenged.

"With pleasure." And then everything faded into inconsequence as Draco watched the Dark Lord's mouth move, forming the word crucio, although Draco did not hear it. He did not hear anything but the thumping of his heart against his chest. He saw something enter Hermione's eyes. It was not fear. It was a painful determination, and the brown of her eyes darkened as she bit her lips hard enough to draw blood.

But she would not scream, even as her body twisted and slammed in clear agony. She remained defiant, her eyes locked on the Dark Lord as he released the Unforgivable Curse on her in all its wicked glory. Her fists clenched, and he saw more red blood being drawn from her palms. Her chin was dripping with it; it seemed she had bitten all the way through her lip. She looked like some sort of dark cannibal, and yet at the same time, Draco couldn't help but notice the light she radiated. Even though she was in so much pain, the sight of her still warmed the ache of his conscious, the torment of his soul and the hurt of his indecisiveness.

Hermione writhed on the floor. The Dark Lord raised his wand again and performed a curse that had her body ramming into the back wall, cracking her head mercilessly against the cold stone. And still she looked at him, no longer under the Cruciatus Curse, but bleeding from a deep gash in her forearm and cradling a broken arm.

It was then that Hermione Granger did something more unforgivable than any curse the Dark Lord could have thrown at her. She stared into his red slits… and she smiled. It was a cruel smile, and the blood on her lips had stained her teeth, lasting evidence of hell.

"Is that the best you've got?" She threw back her head and laughed. "The Dark Lord, ha, can't even make a little Mudblood cry. You're despicable." She spat at him again.

Draco was scared to look at the Dark Lord, but if Hermione could, he must somehow also find the strength to do so. What he saw made him want to shrivel into the ground and die an inconspicuous death. The Dark Lord was not smiling back at the young witch. His once pale face was split by an angry crisscross of blue veins that stood out far from his skin; they seemed like snakes on the prowl. And then the Dark Lord seemed to mentally compose himself.

"Draco!" He yelled, eyes not wavering from the sight of Hermione before him. "Take this girl out of my sight. Torture her to the brink, and then bring her back to me. I want the satisfaction of watching the light leave those ugly, dirty little eyes."

Draco was shocked, but only for a second. With a quick bow to his Lord, he went over to Hermione. His heart was sobbing as he kicked and forced out his harshest voice. "Get up, you useless piece of trash. You're coming with me." Hermione held back a whimper. He had kicked her broken arm, and it was still attached to her other arm by a harsh rope that chaffed her wrists until they too bled.

Somehow, against all the forces of nature, Hermione Granger stood. She wobbled for a brief moment, and then her eyes flashed in determination once more, and Draco almost smiled. She would not fall. He silently exited the room, all eyes upon the pair, as Hermione bit her ravaged lips once more and followed Draco into uncertainty.

As soon as he was sure they were alone in the dark corridors of the Manor, Draco turned to her. Hermione was instantly wary, and he saw her eyes narrow instinctually. Without a word, he scooped her up. She let out a muffled shriek at the unexpected action, but quickly bit it back and accepted the fact that Draco Malfoy was carrying her. She couldn't stop a moan that came when she finally allowed herself to feel the pain. Limp in his arms, Hermione felt every lash of every curse Voldemort had inflicted upon her. She closed her eyes and just felt.

Draco led her into a room with a strange apparatus in the center. It was the emblem of the Malfoys, intricately laced into a sculpture of a green snake. Draco placed his palm on the middle of the symbol and uttered two words. "My room."

Hermione felt the world go dizzy and clutched onto Draco tighter. She knew it was time to lock the pain away again, and she began to mentally prepare herself for the upcoming torture. She did not want to look at Draco, though, not the way she had looked at the Dark Lord. She just wanted this over with. With Draco as the torturer, although no one would have known, the pain would be much greater than with anything else Lord Voldemort could have thrown at her. The pain with Draco torturing her would not merely be inflicted upon her body; it would be inflicted upon her heart and the feelings she could not ignore, and could not accept.

She felt herself laid on a soft bed, but she kept her eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable.

Draco watched her, after laying her out on his bed, and felt something powerful surge through him at the sight. He felt a sudden desire to protect her from the world, to take away her pain, to die for her if it would save the light in front of him. But this world was no longer a place for Hermione, and Draco knew this. Her soul would be destroyed, even if she did manage to escape. Her life would be miserable, in a world without Harry Potter, and without goodness. A world that was now ruled by Lord Voldemort, an immortal being who would change the meaning of evil to something far worse than even Draco could comprehend.

So he knew he could not release her, allow her to escape. Life would be just another form of damnation for her.

There was only one option, really. Because he knew where Hermione would go after this life, and it was not a place of darkness.

But he had no idea how he could do it, how he could find the strength to kill the one he loved.

"Hermione," Draco whispered, pleadingly. "Help me." Surprised, Hermione opened her eyes to find Draco's grey depths inches from her face.

In that moment, she somehow knew what he was planning to do. Knew that he was going to kill her. And yet, her heart was suddenly kindled with a flame of hope. Was it possible, that this boy-no, man in front of her could ever have feelings for…

And her hope was realized when Draco suddenly leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. She cried out at the sudden pain and pleasure. Draco stepped back, wiping blood from his lips, and he looked ashamed. He had hurt her.

Draco took out his wand. Her last moments would not be in pain. Slowly, in a process that took over an hour, he healed Hermione Granger. He healed her torn, broken body as she looked on helplessly. When he was finished, Draco was looking at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Hermione Granger was indescribably rare, magnificent in a way that words could never explain, nor ears ever comprehend. He drank in her beauty with all of his senses; the smell of her hair, the feel of her soft skin, even the taste of her blood, the sound of her sighs as she reveled in her painless state, and of course, the sight of her eyes turned up towards his.

"Hermione. Help me." Draco leaned close to her and tears fell from his face onto hers, connecting them in a moment of a different kind of magic,binding their hearts and feelings. She knew what he needed. He needed the strength to kill her.

Hermione reached up, and pulled Draco down to her. She gazed at him for a moment, then slowly, ever so slowly, raised her lips to his. At the first touch of their lips, Draco sighed, and all of the tension left his body. She drew him close again, and kissed him softly, close-mouthed, gently. She loved the warmth of his lips, their softness, as she moved hers over them. They became her whole world, as she slowly ran her tongue along his outer lip, rubbing it tantalizingly, with a promise of something to come. Draco moaned as she fisted her hand in his hair, and he helplessly opened his mouth to allow her tongue entry.

He had never felt this way. The euphoria, as her tongue slid against his, stroking, enflaming, and comforting, seeking love, was strangely exciting. It was wet, smooth as velvet, and he was becoming dizzy from lack of air. Still, Hermione took her time, exploring every crevice of his mouth. Finally, she released him with a soft open-mouthed kiss, and looked once again into his eyes.

Brown. That was all he could see, and he was drowning, drowning in their depths as she claimed his mouth again. This kiss was gentle, but demanding. She rubbed her tongue hard, circling his teeth, nipping at his lips and allowing him inside her mouth. Her hands were stroking his shoulders, urging him to give himself to the kiss. And he did. He held her body, as she held his soul, tightly and with the urgency of love. Finally, he drew away. He was met once again by her eyes, warm and peaceful.

"Draco." His name on her lips sent shivers down his spine. "I'm happy. Please kill me now." She reached down and placed a hand on his arm, raising his wand to point at her face. "I'll give you one last strength, and if I give you this, you must promise to kill me. I want to give you something special.

She leaned in, and her lips brushed his ear. "Draco Malfoy, I want you to know that you have my love. And I have your heart. I will keep it inside of my own forever." She smiled and leaned back, looking at the man before her. His face was tortured, smiling, crying and she could see he loved her too. It was enough.

He aimed his wand and uttered those irreversible words: "Avada Kedavra." He could almost hear the music of the angels welcoming his love to the heavens. And his heart went with her.

Draco carried her limp body with him to the room of the Dark Lord. It was torn in new places, blood running from cuts he had inflicted after her death. He could hardly look at the lifeless shell that had once held the soul of his light. He had been forced to make it look like he had broken her body; how else was he to explain her death?

He placed the body at the foot of the Dark Lord.

"I am sorry." Draco looked up into the eyes of his master. "I'm afraid I got carried away. Punish me."

Draco closed his eyes and waited for pain, just as Hermione had hours before on his bed. But this pain did not come. The Dark Lord was laughing. Draco's eyes opened at the sound.

"Well done my boy. It seems you've finally developed some backbone. You are dismissed."

Present:

And that is how Draco found himself at his father's desk, crying his soul out, as he finally let his sense follow his heart, up the winding staircase of insanity, straight into the arms of his angel. Literally mad with grief, this was the last day Draco Malfoy spent on Earth. His body would remain, going through the actions, but his spirit was gone, and would never return.

He was a man without a heart.