Disclaimer: I definitely do not own anything Harry Potter related. Except I own copies of the books. But by no means do I have the copyrights.
Hope you enjoy. And yes, this was shamelessy inspired by Russian Roulette by Rihanna. But, I still like it.
Russian Roulette
Hermione thought Draco looked just as broken as the rest of them. His eyes—dull. His hair—greasy. His posture—defeated.
But he was the prison guard.
She was the prisoner.
He had won.
She had lost.
He didn't acknowledge her. That is except to throw lukewarm mushy food at her. She supposed she was grateful that the food was somewhat warm.
But then one day, her cell door opened and there he was.
Staring at her.
He'd changed now. He looked alive.
Hermione felt the first bit of terror since her capture.
"Hello, Granger." His voice crackled. He didn't speak as much as he used to, she supposed.
"Malfoy."
He smiled. She cursed at herself. The smallest waver to her greeting gave away her terror. He would use that against her.
"What do you want?" She asked. Hopefully if she went on the offensive he would forget that she was terrified. Forget that he was that he was the captor.
"I want to play a game."
"A game?" She asked. He'd cracked. Gone mad like everyone else.
"It's a muggle game. Stupid but useful for both of us."
She was silent.
He sat down across from her—that he didn't flinch from the dirt told her how much he had changed.
The sudden appearance of a gun though made her scramble quickly away from him.
He laughed. It was a crazed sick laugh that made her clutch at her knees and elbows from her crouched position.
"You've probably heard of it. Russian Roulette."
"I'm not playing that sick game with you, Malfoy."
He smiled at her.
She realized that no matter how much she protested, she would be playing this game.
"There is one bullet in this revolver. If I win, I get the satisfaction of you dead. If you win, I've set up an escape route for you. The instructions for you are in my pocket."
"That's stupid. You should just kill me if you want me dead."
He was silent.
Despite herself, Hermione was drawn out of her crazed hiding position and sat across from her captor.
"Maybe it's not you that I want dead."
She didn't have anything to say. So she stared at the revolver.
"You choose who goes first. That's fair, considering I put the bullet in."
She was going crazy.
Would it be bad to die now?
There was little chance to find Harry in Voldemort's new empire. And he was the only one to have survived. The others had died in the battle. Or in this prison. Carted out right by her cell. Like dead slabs of meat.
Ron.
She would get to see Ron.
When she looked up into Draco's eyes they were alight. He knew that she'd chosen to play.
She felt sick.
He'd been waiting for this.
"I'll go first." She said.
And held out her hand for the gun.
"Only one rule Granger, you have to make eye contact with me and I with you during the shots."
"Alright."
He handed her the gun.
Her hands shook as she readied the gun. She stared at Draco while she slowly raised the revolver to her temple.
"Calm down. It will be over soon enough."
It that moment it occurred to her that he sounded as if he had said that quite a bit.
She pulled the trigger. Staring at Draco Malfoy.
Nothing.
She couldn't move.
Hermione had been so sure she would die.
"Give me the gun, Granger."
She slowly brought the gun down.
"How many times have you played this?"
He held out his hand for the gun.
She handed it to him.
"Good job. No one else has bothered to ask you that question."
He readied the revolver. He held her gaze easily, bringing the gun up in a well practiced motion.
"Everyone, Granger. Everyone who's been in this jail has played this game with me."
Click.
Nothing.
She was horrified.
Hermione knew she was staring at a monster.
Draco smiled at her.
"Take the gun."
She held her hand out easily. Now that she knew the outcome of this game—that she would die—it was easier to play the game as if nothing mattered.
But she was terrified.
What had she truly done with her life? Helped combat Voldemort only to fail miserably. To be caught and tortured and then thrown into a dungeon to be forgotten by everyone but the man sitting in front of her.
She raised the gun slowly to her head.
"Do you want to know how they each looked?"
The gun rested against her head solidly.
"Ron seemed brave. He didn't even notice that he was crying the entire time."
"Shut up, Malfoy."
"Pull the trigger."
And so she did.
It was a six-chamber revolver. Three blanks. One of the next three would kill.
As she handed him the gun he seemed reluctant to take it.
"You know Granger, you are the first."
"The first what?" She asked.
He raised the gun steadily to his head. He was smiling.
"The first to choose to go first. Everyone else had me go first."
He stared steadily at her.
And pulled the trigger.
He faded quickly into death. She was splattered in his blood.
Hermione screamed.
Long after Draco's body had slumped to the ground she quieted.
His body was still warm while she searched for the escape instructions he had told her about. She was crying. Her shaking hands found the piece of paper.
It opened by congratulating the winner—according to Draco the only prisoner who deserved to escape was the one who was ready to die. The instructions for escape were simple.
She memorized them quickly and then dropped the note on the floor.
She stepped out of her cell for the first time in years and quickly followed the escape route. In the last part of the note Draco explained that he felt it was a fair trade—one life for another. He'd never really liked his; hopefully a prisoner could do better.
But Hermione hadn't read that part of the note.
She was busy escaping.
She was shaken, tired, and felt re-born. And she had a clear purpose.
End Voldemort.
With or without Harry.
When Lucius found his son, he could only smile. Of course the mudblood would be the only one to grant his son freedom.
The END!
Review please. And yes, I know, my grammar is probably atrocious. Sorry :) But, thank you so much for reading!