Title: Fire and Powder
Chapter: 1
Summary: At Bellatrix's orders, Draco kills Hermione. Only she doesn't die—not completely. She's a ghost, doomed to haunt Draco for all of eternity. Has Draco really succumbed to the dark side, or can Hermione draw him into the light?
Pairings: Draco/Hermione
Warnings: Rated R for later chapters - mature scenes (nothing ridiculously explicit), language, and mild violence.
Necessary disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I don't own Harry Potter nor am I in any way legally affiliated with the series. I just like to play with the characters sometimes, especially Draco. Please don't sue me.
Note: This story takes place during Deathly Hallows and diverges from the plot after the trio is captured at Malfoy Manor. I will update on a weekly basis, hoping my college schedule remains steady. I AM IN DESPARATE NEED OF A BETA, PLEASE MESSAGE ME/EMAIL ME/WHATEVER IF YOU ARE CAPABLE AND WILLING, I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER!
"The hour of departure has arrived,
and we go our separate ways,
I to die, and you to live.
Which of these two is better only God knows."
― Socrates
Hermione writhed on the floor as the next wave of crucio forced her body to ignite into another inferno. Blood trickled from the puncture marks on her lip where her teeth dug into the skin, searching for relief that would never come. She couldn't think of anything but the pain. Pain scalding and searing through her entire being, her soul being crushed and cracked until she feared there would be nothing left.
She was afraid. Afraid for her life. Afraid for Harry and Ron downstairs. Afraid that she was going to die right here on the floor of Malfoy Manor.
As abruptly as the pain began, it stopped.
Hermione gasped in a lung full of air, her muscles still shaking from the pain. She once again became aware of the pain from the mudblood gash on her arm, the blood warm and sticky compared to the icy tile.
Her vision began to clear, eternal blackness fading to the red-tinted hall of Malfoy Manor. She could manage to focus on nothing else but the chandelier directly above her. There were voices, she knew there were, but they were muffled by the ringing in her ears. The click, click, of footsteps broke through the mist of residual pain. Suddenly, blazing black eyes were glaring down at her.
"This isn't the time for Gryffindor bravery, silly mudblood," Bellatrix said, her black curls dancing like flames around her face. "Come, Draco, end her."
Hermione jerked at her words, adrenaline taking over the last of the pain. She lurked away with all her might, if she could just reach her wand―"Crucio!"
The scalding returned tenfold, and Hermione collapsed into a trembling heap once more.
End her. An end to this pain sounded like the most beautiful luxury. She couldn't take any more of this, she just couldn't. This was worse than death. If this was living, this was hell.
"Quit playing, Bellatrix," a mans voice said from the opposite side of the hall. Lucius. The pain halted yet again, heavenly relief causing Hermione to cry out.
Another face appeared over her, grey eyes meeting hers. She had to focus all her remaining energy on connecting the eyes to the blonde hair to recognize the face as Draco's.
"Get on with it, boy," Bellatrix prompted, shoving Draco closer to Hermione.
A look of determination took over her enemies pale features, a mask shutting itself over his eyes. His wand stuck out from his body like an extra limb, pointing between Hermione tearful eyes. Ice sharper than any spell shot through her veins. She didn't want to die. Not like this. She pleaded to the Slytherin with her eyes. They'd never gotten along, but surely he wouldn't do this. He wouldn't. He wouldn't kill Dumbledore, he wouldn't kill her. Surely. He wouldn't do this.
Draco's wand trembled as he took in the tears brimming in Hermione's eyes. She was a filthy mudblood, a worthless creature―this should be easy! He was doing the wizarding world a favor, really. Yet, as he looked into her fear stricken face, his determination faltered. But he wouldn't fail again.
"Now, son! The Dark Lord will be here soon," Lucius's voice reminded from the background.
Hermione watched the emotions play out on Draco's face, and saw the mask lock back into place with Lucius's words. She braced herself against the marble floor as she saw the flash of green escape from the end of Draco's wand.
The world around her went abruptly black, the last thing she remembered was a resolute "Avada kedevera!"
Every time Draco closed his eyes to go to sleep, brown eyes stared back at him, brimming with tears. Accusing. Terrified. Dead.
He had done it, finally. He had become a killer. A murderer. A Death Eater. His fingers rubbed absently against the mark on his forearm, a slight stinging sensation accompanying the touch. He was being ridiculous and he knew it. Father had been pleased with him. The Dark Lord had been pleased with him. He had done what was ordered of him, and for once hadn't been a coward. Harry Potter and his friends had been taken care of once and for all. His side would win at last! The Light would be dimmed once again.
He should have been ecstatic. This was what his side had been fighting years for. Finally, that arrogant Potter brat is where he should be—imprisoned by the Dark Lord, set to be executed the very next morning and the redheaded Weasley blood traitor facing the same fate. His two sworn enemies finally to be exterminated once and for all. He'd even finally made up for his transgression against the Dark Lord at the end of his sixth year in which he'd failed to personally kill Dumbledore despite the Dark Lords orders. He'd killed the Mudblood, he'd watched the light all but evaporate from her eyes as the tears finally fell, the clear liquid mixing with the blood on the side of her temple.
He should have been ecstatic, but instead he was wide awake.
A giant weight was gripping his heart, something not quite akin to guilt—guilt over a filthy Mudblood know it all! That would be the day! But alas, the feeling did not dissipate. There was something present indeed, but perhaps it would be different tomorrow. He was probably just tired.
Hermione existed in a state of blackness.
There was nothing. No fear. No relief. Just nothingness.
She continued in this state of emptiness until suddenly there was something. A tug, a gentle pull toward something she couldn't comprehend just yet. She allowed herself to be led, as though tied to a rope being drawn towards a wayward ship that was constantly out of reach. Closer, and closer she navigated, and the tug grew stronger and stronger, propelling her onwards into the blackness.
Draco woke up to the sounds of screaming. His first thought was surprise at having slept at all. He had no recollection of having nodded off, his head heavy against the pillow until well into the morning hours. A strange dream was pulling at his memory, but all he could remember was the sensation of being attatched to something else, the rest was nothing more than a dark mist. He pressed his hands to his face, wiping the sleep from his features. Now was not the time for silly dreams.
The screaming grew louder and he recognized the voice of his aunt Bellatrix.
"How is that possible? These wards are impenetrable!" her strained voice rang out. The paintings above Draco's bed shook with the fury of her words.
"When the Dark Lord finds out—" his father's voice broke off, unable to finish his own sentence. When the Dark Lord finds out what, exactly? Draco moved off his bed, quickly changing into something presentable, before quietly exiting his room and peering over the marble banister to investigate the scene in the foyer.
Bellatrix was fuming, magical energy cracking around her. His father paced nearby—not a good sign—while his mother stood in the corner, a pensive look marring her stern features.
"He will kill us all," his father announced suddenly.
The pieces snapped into the place. Draco understood that Harry Potter and his redheaded sidekick had escaped—somehow—yet again. Despite the numerous wards and locks, The Boy Who Lived had beaten the odds and saved himself once again. Father was right, they were doomed.
"He will kill you!" Bellatrix shouted, her eyes blazing. "You were the one who failed to place strong enough wards! How could you do this to our Lord, Lucius?!"
Draco's fathers face took on an offended expression, one which Draco noticed was masking a far more serious fear. "How dare you insinuate that I would ever work against our Lord, my dear sister, do not offend me! You know as well as I that the strongest of protection wards kept our prisoners from escaping, it seems Potter had more tricks up his sleeve then we anticipated, but it is only a minor setback, for we will capture him again surely!"
Draco could sense the tremor in his father's voice though it was slight. He couldn't save this situation, and he knew it. He could only buy us time. Draco has known for a while now that his fathers dedication was waning. He never doubted the Dark Lords ideals, that was for certain, but he was starting to recognize that perhaps the Dark Lords methods were not the sanest. The Dark Lord was merciless towards his enemies and more importantly towards his supporters. Lucius's dedication would never be enough for him, nothing would ever be enough for him, Draco realized.
Draco's eyes met his fathers across the foyer, and Lucius gave him a small nod behind Bellatrix's back. Draco turned abruptly and reentered his bedroom, looking around at the space he had called his home since he could remember. This manor had been in his family for hundreds of years, their family being traced back through generations of pureblood wizards. And now they needed to leave the only place he had called home—unless he counted Hogwarts, which after his sixth year, he doubted he ever could call the castle his home again. Using a quick summoning spell, Draco had accumulated the majority of his important belongings into a trunk which he promptly shrunk for easy storage.
There was a quick knock at the door and his mother entered. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. He wasn't mistaken, they were certainly leaving.
"Are you ready?" Narcissa asked her son. Draco could see the fear in her eyes, though her face betrayed nothing.
"Yes, mother," Draco responded, asking nothing more.
"Your father is meeting us at the apparition point," she turned and Draco lingered in the doorway behind her. "Hurry, we haven't much time."
With one last glance at his childhood home, Draco followed her the back way out of Malfoy Manor.
End Note: Well there's the first chapter. This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I've written for other genres (though not on this account, my old stuff is embarrassing and I'd prefer to keep it private) but I'm really excited for this piece. Please review, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. BETA NEEDED, PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU'RE INTERESTED.