His Only Weakness, a harry potter fanfic

Hey all! I've been having trouble lately with a heavy case of writer's block with my current story "Iris" so I decided that it was probably best if I took a break from writing that story. I asked a friend for advice and she gave me an idea for a one-shot so here were, in a nutshell, SweetSacrifice's terms:

1. A dangerous liason between Hermione and Draco, a relationship that jeopradize's their lives(doesn't have to be romantic, but of course romance would be nice)

2. I want Hermione to be sort of 'OCC' and I want her to be slightly changed, something terrible in her life affected her badly so she's 'different' only in a bad way.

3. Draco has major conflicting feelings, to be half Malfoy and half Draco.

4. Hermione and Draco have to be trapped, somewhere creative like a cave. There needs to be a background to why they're trapped. They need to work together in order to escape.

5. I want Hermione to reveal a huge secret.

6. A bittersweet ending.

There you have it. I incorporated everything into the story, to the best of my ability, and I hope you all like it!

His Only Weakness

White.

Her hands were pale white, fairer than the rest of her skin which had not been drained from the warmth of blood. Trembling, she looked around to see him still slumped against the dirty wall, a grim expression plastered on his normally smug face. He was scared, rightfully so given the current situation they had thrown themselves in.

It was not their fault though.

Or at least...that is what they both told themselves.

"Are you ever going to speak?" she asked, her voice echoing against the dark walls.

Hermione watched his eyes, his ireful eyes, move from where he was staring at the wall toward her, still dark and wrathful. She could not blame him for being mad, she was mad too, and damn it - it was tearing both of them apart!

It's not fair. It's just not fair!

"Well?"

Draco responded by looking away from her, infuriating her more, fulfilling his intention. Suffer. He wanted her to suffer, suffer like he did when he was with her.

Or when he wasn't.

Damn her! Damn her for doing this to me!

For the last year those had been his thoughts, unbeknownst to him for many a months, but there all the same. At first he thought it to be a sort of puzzling sensation, a feeling one may get when doing something routine for so long just to have it suddenly changed in the lightest of ways; that was her presence. She was here, there, and possibly everywhere he was and it had been driving him crazy! Had been - those are the keywords.

Yes, at first he had to admit that he did not want her there. Damn it all to hell, he did NOT want her there, but she was. She was always there, a lost puppy searching for something to cling to and it had been him. Fucking Potter. It was all Potter's fault and that Merlin forsaken Weasel that had done this. If they had not bunked off, had not gone off to be fucking heroes then none of this would have ever happened! She would have been with them and he would have been free like all of his years there, free to be himself, free to be with pansy; free.

Now what? Now he was anything from free; his House mates own him, his father owns him, the Dark Lord owns him, and...she owns him. He did not know how to deal with it meaning he was at a loss. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy did not like to be, it was to be at a loss, to have a mind suffering from mental confusion.

Whose fault was it?

Well truth be told, he could take some of the blame for this. Had he not been so adamant about avoiding his future bride, more commonly known as the Slytherin pug-whore (a.k.a. Pansy Parkinson), then he would not have been around her so often. If bloody Potter had not gone off to be a hero, then more than likely he would have had the duty instead of him. He certainly was made for it given he was the hero-boy, golden kid, part of the beloved "Gryffindor three", and had been Dumbledore's ruddy favorite. All in all, it was easy to say Potter would have been given the position well before him; had he been there.

Potter wasn't there though so the position was given to him. Fuckin' Potter...

Back to the point - when Draco was being honest, he could admit that he was at fault just as much as she was. Nevertheless, not all the dragons in the world could ever bring him enough pain to admit that aloud. He was still a Malfoy and the Malfoy family boasted themselves on being perfect. This whole thing was a mistake, Draco had made a crucial mistake, but he would never admit to that.

Case in point, it was her fault. It was all her fucking fault that they were stuck in this. It was her fucking fault for him being shunned, for him being thrown out, for him being in the dreary confines they were both currently in; it was all her fucking fault!

She had done this to them. She had done this to him. She had made him...love her.

"Draco just talk to me," she whimpered, her voice emotional from a broken heart. The cause for her broken heart - him.

Okay, retracting, he would admit to some things. Well, at least when they were things to be proud of in the eyes of Slytherins. This was certainly to the nature.

He had broken the heart of the Gryffindor good girl, the Gryffindor princess—

Hermione Granger.

Not that she had nothing to do with this, of course, and unlike Draco, she would admit to it. She damn well knew better than to lean on him, to be around him, to fall for him.

In her defense, she had been extremely lonely. For the first six years of her time there, she had grown accustom to always being with "her boys", more commonly known as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. The past year, though, their presence had been missed along with Hermione's soul dwindling. She was just so bloody alone.

Hermione had always been a popular girl with the Gryffindor House along with the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Nobody, aside from the narrowminded Slytherins, really disliked her kind-hearted nature. Hermione was, with no other word to describe her, kind.

So how the hell did she fall for the most arrogant, hot-tempered wizard to currently grace, or to some - demean, the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Oh, what a bloody mess.

"If you can't talk to me–"

"Granger just...just be quiet. I can't think when you're doing that," he sneered, his tone low and callous.

Hermione looked away, hating his use of her last name, with her chocolate eyes landing on the muddy water dripping slowly down the cave cavity, falling into the mixture of their feet and the debris from their sudden entrance. By sudden entrance that means their fall.

Neither of them really had seen it coming. As a matter of fact, Hermione should not have been down there. In an attempt to keep Draco from falling down, she had grabbed him. However, his superior weight, brought on through constant and persistent quidditch training, not to mention a foot in height, had pulled her down with him.

Consider this - the two were walking on the outskirts of the distant forest surrounding Hogwarts, their voices jumbled in a mixture of two voices - one male, one female - screaming and constant crunching of dried leaves beneath four leather boots. Somehow, between the fighting and bickering, Draco had managed to screech out a cry of shock as he tumbled down into, what came to be, a very large hole in the ground, one of the many traps (which means that magic is futile in attempts to get out) surrounding the vicinity of Hogwarts. Hermione, witnessing Draco's unnatural descent with wide eyes, reached out to help, tumbling down along with him in spite of this.

When they landed, Draco had taken the blunt of the fall. If he admitted to it, he would have said he had done it on purpose, not wanting Hermione to be hurt in the spill. He would not admit to this because he was a Malfoy and Malfoys were not suppose to help mudbloods. Ever.

Subsequently, he told himself he had taken the hit from the crash because he had fallen first. Draco knew Hermione was smart enough (she was not the smartest student at Hogwarts for nothing - he second, only to her) to know he damn well kept her firmly pressed against his chest as to make sure he landed first; but he would never say it. It was just not in his nature to admit to such things.

Finally, after lifting their bodies up and examining their wounds obtained during the fall, the two exchanged glances before looking to their surroundings. How fucking fitting - he thought - to be stuck in a damn hole without anyone's knowledge with the one person I'm not suppose to be with. Merlin curse me.

Notice his word usage - one person I'm not suppose to be with. Was there ever a mention of not wanting to be there with her? There wasn't because he did want to be with her. Her fault, unquestionably, him not taking the blame, but even so - truthful.

Furthermore, the two had been stuck in the cavernous warren for well-over four hours, night had already fallen, and all done in brisk silence. Hermione's voice had been the first sound to break the silence other than the cool wind blowing the nearby trees and distant commotion coming from Hogwarts castle.

"Draco...we need to talk and..."

"Granger just stop," countered Draco, trying with all his might to remain unsympathetic and unfeeling.

"You just...why must you assume the worst in all of this? Why must you think that everyone will hate us for–"

"Because everyone will Hermione! Nobody will understand any of this so just drop it!"

She looked away, her eyes watering and preparing themselves for the wound he was about to make worse. Had someone told her she would feel this much pain over a boy, over a ruddy selfish boy, then she would not have dallied in the fancies of any of them. Screw boys! Screw them all! Screw this one most especially. He doesn't even care!

But he did care. He cared more than she would ever know given her opinion, along with a handful of others including his parent's and mentor Professor Snape's, mattered highly to him. How in the fuck did things get this messed up? How did he manage to put himself in this situation?

He had conquered what he thought would never be possible - her! He had taken her, had his fill of her, and yet - he still fucking wanted her. He could not have her, though, given his situation. Draco Malfoy was the Slytherin Prince, the son of his father, a Malfoy heir, a future death eater, and damn it - this sucked! He may not have cared about many opinions, but if things were going to be said about him then those things needed to be good things; strong appraisal and support to give his family an even better name. If somebody got wind of their relationship - and much to his dismay, somebody had; a former house-elf of his (Dobby) - then the Malfoy name would be tarnished. What would his father say?

More than once that night, he cursed under his breath, "Damn being a Malfoy."

In the back of his mind, he had told himself it was just wrong to start up, let alone fucking continue, a relationship with her. It was all rather blurry on how it began. Well, at least that was the facade he hid behind. He damn well knew how it started.

She was lonely, he was there, and yeah...things happen. But how you ask? How could the Slytherin bad boy and Gryffindor good girl hook up like that? Okay, truth be told, there is much more to it and not all of it is simple to explain.

As it happened, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Hermione's most trusted and loyal friends, left to pursue the dark Lord Voldemort, hoping to end his soon to be mortal soul. The horcruxes, and yes Draco knew about them, were their first targets followed by pursing the man himself. All the while, Hermione was left at Hogwarts, the mission being "too dangerous" in their eyes for her to accompany them. It was one thing for two best mates, both male and in theory more physically capable, to venture on this quest, but quite another for their best female friend to come along as well. Even though her brain and cleverness would have been much appreciated, neither of them could have beared the pain if something had happened to her.

Her thoughts on the matter - my ass! Foul pricks they are for leaving me behind!

So she stayed behind, her thoughts with her best mates nearly every moment.

Seeing as she was to stay at Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall was quite pleased to give her the position of Head Girl. She had always been keen on giving Hermione Granger, her unofficial favorite and certainly most gifted student, the title so it was little surprise when Hermione showed up on September first with the Head Girl badge placed primly atop her black and maroon sweater.

What did come as a surprise was the placement of the Head Boy badge. Displaying the most arrogant of smirks, Draco Malfoy, loathed Slytherin and unofficial leader toward the demise of their beloved Headmaster, strutted down the hallways of Hogwarts well aware of the death stares and hateful grimaces given off by his fellow classmates. McGonagall was not at all happy about her choice, but truth be told, there was a logical reason behind the decision in giving the title to him.

Draco had earned it.

Do not get the new headmistress wrong - she damn well knew of Draco's involvement with the Dark Lord as well as his intentions on the night the half-blood prince took flight, but she could not prove it. Aside from physically torturing him into confessing or powerfully pouring truth serum down his throat (an illegal act unless done with magical warrant inside the confines of the Ministry of Magic), she could not make the boy come forward.

So the woman was torn. She would have loved to have given the position to another favorite of hers, Harry Potter, but we all know as to why she could not. Other seventh year boys did not have the knowledge or expertise of the art of magic quite like the Malfoy boy, precisely why she gave him the badge.

But she did not like it. She did not like it one bit.

As a result, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were in each others' presence constantly. Sharing a common room was one thing, a stupid fucking rule in Draco's eyes, but patrolling the hallways each night was unnerving for him. Someone of his stature was never suppose to be around someone so...so...so fucking beneath him! Not to mention, the consequence of missing Harry and Ron so deeply was heavy; Hermione was no longer the vivacious girl, one he enjoyed tormenting. She...well she was just pathetic and Draco no longer found pleasure in tormenting her. She just did not put up a fight.

The year developed in silence until one night.

While the two of them were not on friendly terms, positively they still hated each other with even more loathing than ever thought possible, mutually they benefitted from the other's recurrent presence. Draco's expertise in advance potion-making helped Hermione immensely as did her knowledge to him in regards to Arithmancy. The Slytherin and the Gryffindor studied together each night, in silence, brooding over the other's notes and answers. Their marks grew throughout the year, not that there was much competition aside from the other, but the growth of intelligence was never argued as a bad thing by either of them.

Their relationship grew as well.

At first a table had separated them, he at one end and she at the other. However, with the year progressing and the work becoming relatively more difficult with each passing week, their need to be in close proximity in order to read over the other's notes became more and more troublesome. So in turn, they beared sitting next to each other, so close their elbows were often touching, skin on skin.

Months passed and their elbows continued to touch. Hermione thought it had all been some sort of dream, a temporary fall into sleep she had deprived herself of due to her fitful and almost compulsive studying habits, when he had bent down to her eye level to touch his lips on hers. Oh...how sweet he had tasted.

Draco's thoughts had been on her the entire night. Wait - rephrase that - his thoughts had been on her for several nights; months of those dreaded nights. It seemed obvious to him, at first, why he was constantly thinking about her.

She was the forbidden fruit.

Damn it - she was the one fucking girl he couldn't have! As a Malfoy, being deprived of something was just so bloody infuriating. It was wrong in a way, blinding him to the point of rage where he just wanted to fucking ravish her every chance he got. It was not as though he was deprived of certain activities. Nearly every girl in the Slytherin tower would have loved to quench his thirst for human exploration, Pansy at the top of the list, but every time he saw her...it was as though he could not control himself, control his lust for her, a bloody fucking mudblood!

Okay, so maybe Hermione was not the most gorgeous thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, but she certainly faired much better than Pansy "Pug-faced" Parkinson. Her hair, the tumultuous brown locks which were perpetually everywhere, had not straightened nor tamed by their seventh year. In spite of this, the way that she carried herself, swayed in the hallways innately, a sway showing through her innocence she had no idea just how sexy her strut which was not really a strut was, could be so intoxicating with her long wild mane grazing her back. Oh how that damn hair had grown on him to where all other female hair, straight or otherwise, just seemed to be a lost cause on him. He had seen the best and nothing else appealed in the slight.

Allude to her intelligence - Merlin, she was the most attractive witch he'd ever seen. Fuck, the only girl who could hold up to his standards intellectually was a feisty little mudblood. This drove him up a fucking wall!

So when he turned toward her that aforementioned night, his pale grey eyes had fallen over every crevice in her face, the beauty of her sucking him in. Her lips, those bloody appetizing lips, were just sitting there, untouched, and he fucking wanted them. So he kissed her and kissed her well, her tensing in his arms before succumbing into his embrace, kissing him back.

Then it all became confusing.

Most couples had it easy at Hogwarts, what with everyone in such a confined local for nine months of the year. Even with the divided Houses, students could easily date and participate in outside activities with others just as easily as House-mates could. Truth be told, Hogwarts was a wonderful place to begin falling in love.

Not for Draco and Hermione. Not when the two most famous students at Hogwarts, the former more infamous than the latter, are the ones participating in such an affair. It was scandalous to say the least. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor good girl and one-third of the Golden Trio, was in love with Draco Malfoy, Slytherin bad boy and son of well-known Death Eater Lucius Malfoy.

Scandal...

Scandal!

Hermione was never one to worry about such gossip. Come on, look at her fourth year when she was plastered over every fucking newspaper with numerous headlines portraying her as some sort of Hogwarts harpy, tramp for stealing the hearts of both Harry Potter and Victor Krum. She had not been bothered then (well, outwardly at least), but she was bothered this time.

She was bothered because of him.

Curse him! If he was not so insistent in following the path of an evil force, one which opposed people just like her then they could have been together! Damn him for that, for not thinking about how perhaps his people, the ones that he followed and for some ruled, wanted her kind dead; they hated muggle-borns.

No, their relationship was anything but typical. The reason why their conversation inside the muddy confines of the ground lacked any sort of love or care; seemingly at least.

"Granger it's not–"

"Stop calling me by my last name! You bloody know and have used my first so I suggest you begin with that or else I refuse to listen to anything hiss out of your mouth," she snarled, anger surfacing quicker than he had anticipated.

"Hermione this can't happen. It's not that I don't want it to, but it can't. It just...can't." He looked down at his trembling hands, numb from clenching them so tight.

"Fine," she breathed, her voice calm again; controlled. She was fighting for that fucking control and fighting hard, a task which only people capable of hiding their emotions could do. Draco, someone who was able to do said task even better, saw through the disguise she was masking behind.

"Hermione you know that–"

"I said it was fine," she said again, quicker than before.

"It's not fine. It's easy to see it is not fine with you and–"

"And you made the choice. It was not something that I ever had a say in. You never had any intention with me other than to fu–"

"Don't you even bloody think about saying that. You know that was not what it was about and not something I was after."

Silence

"It may have started out that way, but–"

"It was that way Draco so don't even start by saying it wasn't. I know better and I knew better then, but I went the other way. Curse me for being so stupid."

"Hey," he growled, "I don't want to hear you talking like that, do you understand me?"

"Screw you! You think I want your fucking pity Draco?! Do you?!" she screamed, accusations clearly taking over her voice.

"I'm not pitying you Hermione–"

"Do you think this is any easier on me? Draco I do not want to be in love with you just like you want nothing to do with me (she nearly almost said 'just like you don't want to love me', but she held back before it slipped. The words had never been exchanged - until now and only by her. Merlin, she figured that was how it was going to stay), so do not think I am simply throwing myself at you. I do not want this anymore than you fucking do!"

Hermione was unaware of it, too consumed in her own present thoughts to notice the pang of guilt and sorrow flash in his normally guarded eyes upon her words.

"Curse me for fucking being this way because I cannot help it. I have never been able to help it."

Oops...

"What was that?" he asked, catching the mistake she hoped he would not notice.

Playing dumb, something Pansy would usually do with just as much success as she was about to get, she asked, "What?" One word, yet a clear question.

"You heard me. What was that?"

Bugger me...

"I s-said that I've never been able to help it," she whispered, her voice hoarse. Knowing Draco the way she did she figured he understood it, but continued anyways, "I have thought of you, about you in a particular way, for a while. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have and I did and it's...it's not bloody fair."

Draco, though remaining composed on the outside, was positively flabbergasted by her confession. Just how long has she fancied me?

"Well," he began, realizing his question was worth an answer; "how long?"

"Fourth year since the Yule Ball."

That long?! Damn...I mean I know I looked good and all—no! Stop being a Malfoy for one second and just...talk to her. Just talk to her.

"F-fourth year?" he asked; I sound like fucking Weasel! What's with the stuttering - pull it together you lame ass!

"Yeah and I should not have been looking at you like I had been. I am not only a Gryffindor but a member of an order that fights against you! You just...I don't know. I guess I saw you in a different light and liked it. If only you weren't such a prat I would have liked you more. Then this year came and I did see that light. Damn you...Draco you're capable of loving, you're capable of going against the dark arts and you don't because it would go against Lucius. Even you have said that you–"

"Don't say it. I know what I said and call it a temporary moment of insanity," he hissed harshly. Draco was surprised in the next instant when she let out a hollow, almost hateful laugh.

"That's all this was to you, right? It was all a game and you won. You won, you got your prize, and now you're free I guess."

"Hermione I made an offer and you said no–"

"You're damn right I said no! I refuse to be some sort of...of...of bloody concubine for you to use when you see fit! How dare you for thinking that I would ever do that. You really have no idea who I am and that hurts more than any of this."

"I don't want you as a mistress Hermione!"

"Then what?! Everything you told me basically all but pointed to that you muck!"

"Hermione it was never about using you for that..." he broke off, his heart actually sagging in his chest, her words cutting him worse than she could know. How could she think of it that way? How could she think I would devalue her like that? I know her fucking worth! She's perfect!

"Then for what? What is your excuse for wanting me near as you said but out of public's eyes? What was your intention if not for that?"

He could not bring himself to speak because that would mean confessing, admitting to something, aloud; something he did not like to do. He did not want to do it, but he would. He would because he loved her. Damn it all to hell, did he fucking love her!

"My intent was never to debase you or use you for my own personal pleasure; well, strictly at least. I suggested it because you'd be safe. You're right Hermione, nothing out of the ordinary, but you're right in that your kind is threatened. Even if Potter does manage to get rid of the horcruxes and finds You-Know-Who...the chance that this seventeen year old wizard can beat him is slim. He just...he's too powerful and so I figured a final battle was bound to ensue between the two. Once Potter lost–sorry, it's how I see it happening–" he apologized quickly catching sight of Hermione's flash of horror at his foreboding thoughts, "–and I know He will rise and come after people like you. I could not bear...I can't bear something happening to you. Fuck me for thinking this way, about a girl I'm not intended to marry, about you!"

Hermione had long lost battle with her tears, ones which were cascading down her flushed cheek. Why can't I hate him! Merlin why not let me just hate him! He is the enemy in all of this and...I still love him. I love him so much...

"There will be a war and soon, sooner than you think probably. And I'm going to fight in it and knowing you like I do, I damn well believe you'll be on the opposite side, fighting against me."

"I will be fighting for what is right," she said, turning her chin upright, pridefully.

"As will I," he said, his tone much softer than hers though with just as much satisfaction.

There you have it - two people, star-crossed lovers, never meant to be together coming to an agreement of fighting against one another.

And they were in love.

And they were hurting.

Hermione decided the best course of action for getting out of the hole, some thirty feet deep, was to create a ladder without the use of magic. If magic would not let them out then screw it; they would not use it.

"Let's get out of here," she said quietly.

"Best idea I've heard all day. How do you propose we do that though without our wands?" asked Draco mockingly, knowing it would be nearly impossible to get out until somebody, hopefully, found them.

"We can make a ladder."

"A what? What the fuck is a ladder?"

"You purebloods and innate dislike for anything that does not revolve entirely around magic."

Normally Draco would have been extremely put off and lashed out at whoever said that disgustingly rude comment, but it was a different time and person. Not only did it appear that she had an idea on means of getting out, but it was her...he didn't like hurting her.

Draco watched with extreme interest as Hermione used her hands to dig small holes into the ground, large enough for her hands and feet to stick into yet firm enough to keep her from slipping. It was quite genius in the eyes of Draco, something he, once again, would never admit to.

After about a half and hour and a dozen tries from Draco, they were both free from the ground and freezing in the night air. Hermione had helped him out once he reached the surface, but left immediately after, walking toward the castle in hopes of finding solitude away from him.

He caught up with her.

"Hermione," he whispered, his hand placed on her back; "I...know that I do...I...I lo–"

"Save it," she cut him off, "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear those three precious words even if you mean it under these circumstances. Saying goodbye to you is hard enough so why add to the stress?"

Typical Granger, always being right.

"So then what do you want me to say?" he asked, desperately drinking in her face, every curve on her body; memorizing her.

"Just...when the battle does ensue...I mean, if we cross paths...what–"

"I will show your side no mercy because, though you may not want to look at it this way, they will show me none. I will fight to my death if I have to."

He watched her head fall, sadness overtaking her.

"However, I will show you mercy."

"What?" she asked, raising her eyes to meet his.

"I said I would show your side no mercy, but that did not include you. I don't want to fight you nor do I want anything to happen to you. Curse me...you're my weakness Hermione. I fear that you're going to be the death of me. Not that many would care, but–"

"I would care!" she screamed, those fucking tears threatening to drench her again. Draco put his finger to her lips, silencing her, lest she tried to speak again.

"Hermione...if things had been different and if last year didn't happen, then maybe we could have been together. But not now. I'm afraid now is not a possibility for us."

"I know," she whimpered, her body shaking; from the cold or from her sorrow, Draco could not tell.

"I promise you that when we see battle and when we cross paths...I will not hurt you. You're my only weakness Hermione and I pray that in the end you're safe and happy."

With those words spoken, he pulled her into him for a fierce kiss, a hungry kiss, a kiss people might share when impending death was approaching.

And it was.

Before parting, keeping their foreheads together, their hot breath mixing, he placed a rugged hand on her cheek. It was then when he spoke those words–

"I love you."

After that, he was gone.

It would be several hours before she moved again and even then it was a challenge.

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His Only Weakness is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.