Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: This is a semi-Valentine fic. However, that isn't the focus. It just has a slight tie in to the myths of the origin of Valentine's Day.
They shoved him roughly into Azkaban Prison. He was forced to walk down on the aisle of criminals, trapped so far into their own minds by the Dementors that bars were not needed to cage them. Already, the Dementors began their toll on him. His worst memories were played over in his mind. His mother pleading with the Dark Lord to change his mind about the task he had given her only son. His father smuggling squander amounts of bare neccissities to their hiding spot. His mother's murder replayed before his eyes.
Was it only days ago that his father was caught? Shortly before the Dark Lord's fall, a few Death Eaters knew the ultimate battle would result in their loss; his father was one of them. He had quickly procured a hiding spot for his wife and son and some meager supplies; the Dark Lord held all of their assets. After the Dark Lord's fall, his father was found and killed for his crimes. His father was the Secret Keeper to their hiding spot so with in moments aurors had their place surrounded.
His mother was in one room and he was in another. The two rooms were separated by a one-way glass on his side. The door was slammed open and he saw a group of ministry wizards, their wands poised, pointed at his mother. He watched them yell at her, torture her, in attempts to disclose her son's, his, location. His mother said nothing and her agonizing screams of pain was all he could hear. He shuddered as the memory continued to when his mother was killed before him, her eyes closed in defeat. He could make out the words that she whispered before her life was snatched away from her: Good-bye, Draco .
They pushed him into a cell. This was the cell they used for minors; there were no Dementors here. He didn't see the point. He'd turn seventeen in a month and he'd be sent to that horrid place. Might as well send him there now. The guard tied his hands behind him. Not that having his hands unbound would help. His wand had been taken from him and shredded. They closed the gate and left him there.
He sat down on the moldy bench, cringed in disgust, and leaned on the slime-ridden walls. He closed his eyes. Why couldn't they just kill him now? End his sufferings now. Let him join his parents. Mother. Father.
He could go insane, become as deranged as his aunt. Aunt Bella was the sweetest aunt you could imagine. Okay maybe not the sweetest, but she was kind. Tears streamed down his eyes now. The Dark Lord had ruined his family. His life.
"Malfoy? D-Draco Malfoy?" A voice carried down from the corridor. It was a soft female voice. Too soft too belong to that of a prison guard.
He got up and walked over to the gates.
"Over here," he said harshly. That soft tone was to throw him off his guard. That wasn't going to happen.
He saw a young woman. Her hands grazed the cells, feeling them. She stared ahead, her walk was unsteady. She held in her other hand a bowl. He could see steam coming from it. He didn't recognize the girl. She looked thin but healthy.
"Am I at your cell yet?" She asked.
"One more down," he said a bit thrown off guard. Who was she? And more importantly, why was she here?
"This one?" She asked. Her finger clutched the bars on his cell.
"...Yes," he said suspiciously. What tactics were they playing now? Well, he wouldn't reveal a thing--not that he had anything to reveal. He was kept from the other Death Eaters, a simple errand boy.
"I brought your food," she said calmly. She pushed the bowl through the gates. Interesting, objects could pass through the gate. He pressed his leg at the gate, knowing it was useless but was desperate for some little hope.
"Hey, nitwit, incase you haven't notice, my hands are tied behind my back," he said snidely.
"Oh, I didn't," she said softly.
She pulled the bowl back. Her fingers shook as she felt for the spoon and spooned out some mush. Porridge. She pushed the spoon through the gate.
"Here, eat," she ordered.
"No," he said disgusted.
"I don't have to do this," she said, shaking slightly with anger, "I don't have to be this nice to you. I don't have to bring you food, or water, or anything."
"You're a terrible little liar," he replied laughing. "Your pathetic ministry wants me alive to give you information."
She bit her lips.
"Well, I refuse to eat. Kill me," he challenged.
"You're too young to die," she muttered, speaking to herself. "Then again, we're all young; to be facing what we've seen."
"Who are you?" He asked.
She laughed bitterly. "Have I changed that much, Malfoy? Or have you just forgotten?"
"Who are you," he said impatiently.
"Hermione Granger," she said emotionlessly.
He took a step back. Granger? This was Granger?
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you somewhere with your nose in a book and a high paying job?" He sneered.
"There are no jobs for the blind." She said bluntly.
He took a step back. Blind? Granger was blind.
"But aren't you a hero now?" He challenged. "A great defeater of the Dark Lord."
"The world felt that the great Harry Potter held all the glory, and after being told that numerous times, he himself began to believe it."
"Potter? Potter left you here? In a low-life job?"
"Do you want the food or not," she snapped.
"So tragically left behind by your boyfriend," he said mockingly.
Her fingers clutched the bowl tightly at his blow and she flung the--now cold--porridge in his face.
"Damn!" He yelled.
"He is not my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy," she said fuming, "Never has been and never will be. Now I hope you enjoy your meal," she said sickly sweet at the end and left him gaping after her.
He shook around, trying in vain to get the gooey clumps off of him. He struggled for a few minutes and then the porridge grew hard and clung to him for good. A few hours later, he heard someone whistling. It was Hermione, feeling the bars, counting her way to Malfoy. When she reached there, there was a smirk on her face.
"A little sticky, are we, Malfoy?" She asked laughing, imagining the angry look on his face.
"Get rid of it," he whined.
"...No?" She said surprised by his whining.
"Please?" He begged.
Surprised, she nodded, and performed the spell that washed out the clumps of porridge. She heard his stomach growl.
"Hungry, Malfoy?" She asked slyly.
"Never," he said quickly. "That, uh, was me growling at you in, uh, anger. Yeah, anger."
"Sure, sure," she said knowingly. She left him, to bring food to other unwilling Slytherin teenagers in the minors section."
A few days passed. And every meal time, she'd pass by and offer him food. He'd decline smugly, but groaned and moaned in hunger whenever he thought she wasn't around.
"Draco," she said sharply.
He was sitting down, leaning on the wall, groaning. His face was pale and unhealthy.
"Mmh?" He moaned, not caring if she saw him like this.
"You are going to eat," she commanded. She knew how unhealthy he was, even if she couldn't see him.
"Mmm, no," he groaned.
"This isn't a game," she said walking through the gate. She felt for him and found him on the floor. She put her hand on his shoulder and then his head.
"You don't get it, do you?" He said weakly. "I have to die. Need to die. They'll just torture me until I crack, trying to find information from me that I don't have."
"No one is going to torture you," she whispered, slightly comfortingly.
"Ha," he said tonelessly.
"I'm serious. They know you have nothing. Infact, all the Death Eater children will go on a trial, one by one. The innocent will go free."
"And the not-so-innocent?" He challenged.
"Will serve time based on degree of crimes," she explained. "And I know you haven't done anything too bad."
"Why do you say that?" He asked, truly perplexed.
"I've felt murderers' prescence," she said shuddering. "And you are not a murderer."
"Well you're right, I haven't murdered anyone," he whispered.
"You have hope, Draco," she said, smiling for the first time in a while.
"I'd rather have some porridge," he said cheekily.
She laughed gently and brought some to him. Hermione propped him up to a more comfortable position and spoon-fed him the porridge. It was a slow and messy process, since she couldn't see.
"So what is the world like, Hermione?" he asked, inbetween bites.
"It really hasn't changed much," she admitted. "Then again, I don't see much of it."
"Oh, right," Draco mumbled. "I-I'm sorry. How did it happen?"
"Before Voldemort's fall, there was that period of time when he was at the height of his power," she began.
"What?!" Draco said surprised.
"You don't know?" Hermione asked puzzled.
"I was in hiding most of the time," Draco replied. "But continue."
"Well, I was a prisoner; a prisoner with valuble information on the people of the Order who were in hiding and plotting his downfall. I refused to say anything. They used a spell to make me blind. There's usually a counter-spell or potion but the spell had blinded me for so long my eyes lost their ability to see entirely."
There was a silence as Draco pondered what happened to her.
"Then how can you stand me? How can you bear to be near a son of one of the Death Eaters. The ones who did this to you?" He asked.
"Your father was the one who helped me escape," Hermione said quietly.
Draco's eyes widened to learn this bit of information.
"Draco, your father was killed for helping me," Hermione said biting her lips.
"No, no, he was killed by the ministry for his crimes," Draco said his heart beating fast, "We saw the paper."
"The ministry didn't want to let the public think there were any good people among the Death Eaters so they made it seem like they killed him," Hermione said, revealing the truth.
"My father helped you?" Draco stammered, stunned with the news. "He was killed for helping you?"
Hermione inched away from him, in fear, although she wouldn't admit it. Her fingers gripped the bowl tightly as she whispered, "Yes."
"I'm not going to hurt you for that," he said hoarsely.
"I-I know." Hermione tried to snap back but it came out in stutters.
"Then why did you inch away from me?" He asked darkly.
"I-I-I.."
"Your as bad as them," he muttered, "You're just waiting for me to attack someone. To 'show my true colors'. "
"No Draco, no," Hermione said quickly.
"Get lost, Hermione," he said turning away from her.
"Think you're so special?" Hermione said acidly. "Think you're so dark and misunderstood?"
"Hey, I"m not misunder--"
"Of course not, Draco, you just feel no one understands you. You can't wrap your head around the fact that someone is trying to help you--"
"Yes, inching away from me in fear will definitely help me, I"ll keep that in mind," he remarked bitterly.
"And you can't accept other people's flaws or your own for that matter," Hermione snapped. "Tell me, how should I have responded to the son of the man who was killed for trying to save me?"
There was an awkward silence.
"That's what I thought," Hermione said satisfied. "You wouldn't know what to say or do."
"No, I wouldn't," Draco said quietly and then said, "But I had hoped the brightest witch of our age would."
Hermione blushed. He liked her blush and then he promptly blushed for thinking such thoughts.
"So you're not angry?" Hermione asked quietly.
"No, I'm not," he said, resting his head on her shoulder. She refrained from gasping. She didn't know how close they had been sitting together. "In fact, I'm glad to know the truth behind my father's death," he said softly.
"I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione whispered as she felt him until she found his arm and rubbed it gently.
"Don't be," he said, enjoying the feeling of her arm. "He died for a noble cause, I guess you could say."
"Very," Hermione assured him. "Draco, I have to go now."
"No, Hermione, please, don't leave me," he pleaded. He hadn't been comforted like this since forever; he liked it. Not many people were this kind to him. He never felt this loved.
"I'll be back, Draco," she said soothingly. "Don't worry."
Shyly, Draco gave her cheeks a quick kiss. Hermione blushed. "Come back soon," he whispered. "It's lonely here."
"I will," Hermione said, fighting to the urge to kiss him back, "Good-bye, Draco."
He bit back protests as she got up and left him alone in the cell. It really was lonely. He had grown to enjoy her presence. His father died trying to protect her. He didn't know why, but he felt this urge that he must protect her as well. She was so sweet so gentle yet at the same time she knew when to push him down, to humble him and see clearer. He had so much to thank her for.
"Malfoy," a cold voice called.
"Yes," he said sharply. His head jerked to the entrance to his cell. There he saw... "Potter," he said coldly.
"You wretched being. Taking advantage of her. I saw your whole act," he sneered.
"Me? Take advantage of her?" Draco asked disgusted. "What about you who refuse to acknowledge exactly how much she helped you in the Dark Lord's defeat."
"I defeated him," Harry said coldly. "You have no right to confuse her like this."
"Confuse her?" He asked appalled at the accusations.
"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. I know my Hermione. I know of her fragile state. I know what she owes me and what I must do," he snapped back.
"Your Hermione?" Draco laughed bitterly. "If she was truly yours, she wouldn't be here in this dump, feeding prisoners."
"It is what she is capable of doing, considering her blind state," Harry said angrily. "And don't you talk to me like that. She is mine. She will do as I say."
What a cruel man, he thought angrily. Potter had broken her resolve. Made her feel weak and helpless. He hated him for doing that to Hermione.
"She is not weak and she sure isn't helpless," Draco said enraged. "She's a much better person than you'll ever be. Defeating the Dark Lord has certainly given you a big head."
"You're not in the position to be making cracks, Malfoy," Potter said, grinning in a way that sent shivers down his spine, though he would never admit it.
"Tomorrow, February 14, your execution will take place at sunrise," Potter said with a final tone.
"Execution? What about my trial?" Draco argued angrily.
"She told you you'll have a trial?" Potter asked laughing. "That's just a little white-lie I told her to keep her delicate mind safe."
Draco felt like a bomb dropped on him. He would be killed, just like that, tomorrow. He remembered those weeks he lived where he wished for death to swallow him, to end the pain. Life, truly was cruel. Just when he had gained happiness in his life, just when he loved someone and felt loved, it would be snuffed from him.
"I don't think Hermione should be seeing you anymore," Potter continued. He snapped his wand at Draco's wrists and his bonds fell free. "Eat your own bloody porridge, Malfoy." With that he left.
Hours passed as Draco paced the cell. Dead, tomorrow, he would be dead tomorrow. He had to do something.
"Draco," he heard Hermione say as she felt the jail cells, counting, until she reached Draco's.
"Hermione," he said heavily.
She walked into the cell and groped the air, searching for Draco. He grabbed her arm with his hands and she gasped.
"Someone came and unbound my hands," Draco said quickly.
"Oh, then I, I suppose there's no need for me to feed you," she said quietly.
"No!' He said hastily. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her into a hug. She clasped the bowl in one hand, careful not to let it spill. "Don't go Hermione, not now." He grabbed the bowl from her and placed it on the bench. "Don't leave me Hermione," he said, sobbing into her shoulders.
Hermione was surprised by his actions. She gently patted his back. "Draco, Draco, what is wrong?" She asked calmly.
Draco looked at her. She looked so serene, so calm, that he didn't want to reveal to her his death seal. "I missed you," he whispered, tears streaming down his eyes. This was true, he had missed her.
"I'm here now, Draco," she said soothingly. "You don't need to cry, Draco."
"I, I just over-reacted," he said softly. He couldn't tell her. He couldn't be the one to tell her. He needed her to be strong.
"Draco," she said, giving him a quick kiss to his forehead, "I, I think I might love you."
More tears streamed down his face at her words. He kissed her cheeks and then her lips. He held her close. He didn' want to let her go, ever. He had found love and he couldn't let it be taken from his grasps.
"Hermione," a voice said sharply. It was Potter. He could feel her grow rigid at the sound of the voice. She pulled away from him and brushed her robes.
"What are you doing in there?" He asked coldly.
"I-I was bring him food," she stammered.
"He has arms, he can eat it himself. You don't need to feed him," he said reprimandingly. "Now get out of there."
"Y-Yes, Harry," she said as she reluctantly left Draco's cell.
"Remember who you are, and your place, Hermione," Potter said sharply. "Or would you like a reminder?"
"No!" She said quickly, fear truly in her eyes, "N-No Harry, please no." Hermione Granger, strongest girl Hogwarts had ever seen, was cowering before Harry Potter.
Draco, disgusted with the exchange he had witness yelled angrily, "You bastard, Potter!"
"Draco, no!" Hermione warned.
"Draco, is it now?" Harry asked, anger etched in his features, "I see you have forgotten your place. Need I remind you who is taking care of you? Who is providing the clothes on your back and the food in your stomach?"
"No Harry, no," Hermione whispered.
"Go, I'll deal with you later," he said sharply.
Hermione nodded and left, walking hurriedly.
"What have you done to her?" Draco asked appalled. "You ruined her. You broke her."
"Your bloody master did that by himself," Harry snapped. "If it wasn't for my kindness in taking care of her, she wouldn't be here."
"Your right," Draco said angrily. "She'd be somewhere important. Not in the dumps of Azkaban. Do you hear yourself, Potter? Is Azkaban the place you'd exile your best friend? I can't believe you."
"It doesn't matter what you believe, does it?" Harry retorted, "You have less than 12 hours to live. Good-bye, Malfoy."
Draco cursed Potter for a good few minutes. He had to leave Hermione a message, before he was killed. He never told her he loved her. He wept bitter tears. He had the chance and he never siezed it. He saw the porridge. Unexperienced witches and wizards could do magic with out a wand, maybe he could as well?
He thought of the porridge and it molding itself into letters. It took him a few hours to get it right, but soon, he had the porridge forming letters.
A Roman myth he had heard so long ago came into his mind. It was a muggle myth, but he had read it all the same. There was a man named Valentine and he was put in prison, the reason escapes him, but Valentine had fallen in love with the jailer's daughter. Before Valentine's execution, he had written a message for his love and his closing words were "From your Valentine". Apparently, this lead to the muggle holiday Valentine's day.
Draco was Valentine and in prison and Hermione would be the jailer's daughter who took care of the inmates. What day was Valentine's day? He was sure it was on the fourteenth of...February? Yeah, it must've been February. February 14th was the date. Tomorrow. His execution. He quickly added the final words.
"Hermione," Harry said sharply.
"Y-Yes," she said quietly. She tried desperately to act as though nothing happened.
"About last night, what did he do to you?" Harry was worried, Malfoy could have done some terrible wandless magic on her, something dark.
"N-n-nothing, Harry," she said, hoping he wouldn't press further.
Before she could blink, he had his wand pressed on her head. He was searching through her memory! She had to block him, he couldn't see her kiss with Draco. But it was in vain, she gasped as she relived her memory, this time Harry with her. He removed his wand, glaring at Hermione.
"Nothing, huh?" He asked, fuming that she would do that. He saw her kiss him back. He moved his wand to her throat. She squirmed.
"I-It was n-nothing, Harry," she whispered
"You shouldn't be lying to me," Harry said as he pressed the wand harder, murmmering a spell.
Hermione squirmed even more. She hated when he did that. It was similar to that of a being near a Dementor. Her failures in life played out before her.
"Harry...please," she pleaded, "...please stop..."
"You will listen to me, correct?" He asked, making sure to be clear. "You will not associate with the other prisoners like you did with Malfoy." He made sure to say "Malfoy" with as much hatred as he could.
"Y-yes, just make it stop, please," she begged. It was becoming too much, and Harry knew that so he removed his wand. He didn't like doing it, but it was neccessary for her protection.
He slipped his arms around her, comfortingly, and kissed her lips.
"Remember who you belong to," he said before giving her a tight squeeze and left her.
She rubbed her lips. It was longer than the kiss she had with Draco but she hated it. She had been kissed numerous times, some as punishments, hard kisses that hurt her because they were love-less; some as rewards that were a little sweeter and rarer, by Harry. But nothing compared to that sweet kiss she shared with Draco. Her heart felt heavy at the thought of Draco. She longed to see him, but Harry was lurking around the minors' prisons more than before...before he found them.
She waited patiently for lunch-time, when she would have a reason to see Draco. She went to a little room she had there. It was actually a prison cell that was fitted to her liking. She could enter and exit as she pleased, like the actual prison cells. She had books there. They were in braille, she tried to teach herself. But it was a slow process.
Her thoughts kept drifting to Draco. When he had starved himself, she could hear his moaning. It reminded of the time she had been tortured and of the times Harry does that spell on her. Her heart went out to Draco. When she was feeding him, she thought of his family. His father and mother were dead. When she realized that she was the one to reveal to him exactly how his father died, she felt terrible. She had wanted to comfort him about his father but at the same time she was afraid that he would hate her for it. But he didn't. She didn't know what made her utter the words of love she whispered to Draco. But it was true.
The clock struck and she saw it was lunch time. She went to the kitchens and got the food. Harry was nowhere to be seen and she was glad for that. She felt her way to the minors' cells section. She counted the cells silently, and gave food to through the bars.
"Hermione," someone from a cell called.
"Pansy?" She asked.
"You never come and talk to me anymore," she said sadly. "When is my trial?"
"I don't know, Pansy," Hermione said impatiently.
"You seem in a hurry. Whose cell are you going to?" She asked coyly.
"Draco's," Hermione breathed.
"Oh," Pansy said sympathetically, "Must hold memories for you, go Hermione." Hermione had grown on Pansy, especially after the hope of a trial. She, Pansy, hadn't done any Death Eater activities. She'd breathe free air soon.
Memories? What did she mean by that? It seemed odd to Hermione for Pansy to say that. She counted the cells until she reached Draco's.
"Draco?" She called, walking in. "Draco?" Her voice was more strained now. The cell seemed strange. She could usually feel the prescence of a person. But the air around her seemd dead and lifeless. "Draco?" She asked even more scared. "Draco, this isn't funny. Draco!"
"Hermione," a voice said behind her sharply.
"H-Harry," she said fearfully.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, more like a statement than anything else.
"I-I was just bringing him his lunch," she replied. "Where is he?"
"Executed," Harry said bluntly.
"What?" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "What about his trial?"
"That doesn't matter right now. He was just another Death Eater," Harry said impatiently. "You don't need to come to this cell.
"Did he have a trial?" Hermione asked tearfully.
"I'm pretty sure, yes," Harry lied. He walked into the cell and put his arm around her. "Now, you will come with me. Or would you like a few reminders?"
Fear flooded in at the thought of his terrible spell as she muttered, "Y-yes."
Harry saw something on the bench. It was the porridge, formed into letters.
"Good-bye my love, I'll always be with you. Your Draco. Your Valentine."
Harry fumed at the words.
"Nothing was going on with you and Malfoy, eh?" Harry asked, angrily.
"N-no?" She said, wondering what was going on.
"Then what is this message doing here?" He asked.
"Message?"
" 'Good-bye my love, I'll always be with you. Your Draco. Your Valentine.'?" He asked accusingly.
"H-he wrote that?" She asked, stunned and touched at the same time. Tears streamed down her eyes. He was gone. He was killed. He loved her. She didn't know how to feel.
"With his porridge," Harry replied, furious with her. "What have I told you about having feelings for that?"
"I-I shouldn't have them," Hermione recited, dutifully.
"Remember what you owe me, Hermione. I saved you in your most desperate time. You must do as I say," He said coldly.
"Y-yes, Harry," she said, tears streaming her face. Her mind only thinking of how he had loved her. And she, she would never be able to be with him.
A/N: The reference to the Roman myth could also be a Greek myth. Short version:
There was a Roman priest named Valentine. Though the true tales are shrouded in mystery, it is said that Valentine was actually imprisoned by Emperor Claudius II. The Emperor had decided that the best soldiers were unmarried soldiers, so he outlawed marriage to ensure a strong army. Valentine, believing this to be a ridiculous notion, continued to perform marriages in secret (in the name of love, of course!).
After he was imprisoned it is said that he fell in love with his jailor's daughter; a sweet young maiden who paid him frequent visits. Sadly, Claudius had ordered that Valentine be put to death, but not before Valentine managed to send the object of his affection a love note signed "your Valentine," a phrase which is still popular to this day...
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