Author's Note: Hey hey! So I was planning on this being the last instalment in this particular series, but I'm not 100% sure, so I'm going to let you all decide. If you think it's okay that I ended it this way, don't have to leave a review, if you're horrified I ended it this way, tell me!

IMPORTANT NOTE! THIS IS PART 4 OF A SERIES. YOU PROBABLY WON'T UNDERSTAND IT IF YOU DON'T READ PARTS 1-3. THEY ARE ON MY PROFILE!

Part 1: The Queen

Part 2: The Huntsman

Part 3: The Princess

This fic is also linked to a number of challenges:

Advent Calendar:

Written for Freedom'sTollBells - I hope you like it!

Hogwarts Assignment:

Magical and Mundane Literature - Write about two 'star-crossed lovers' and the trials and tribulations they endure to be together. Extra Prompts: (scenario) someone in a coma, (object) slipper

Chocolate Frog Card Challenge:

Gunhilda of Gorsemoor (Bronze) Write about someone assisting another person with an illness or an injury

Pokémon Trading Card Challenge:

Sableye (Platinum) - Write about the beauty of someone's eyes.

The Prince

Draco looked an absolute state as he stumbled through the great doors to the throne room. He had barely slept or eaten in more than a month and consequently his face was haggard and his knees were weak. He tripped and stumbled across the shining marble floor towards the dais where the Queen sat. She was resplendent in her finery, her skin as smooth and unblemished as ever, her face and demeanour radiating fear and worry.

"My Prince, have you any news?" she begged, standing as he approached. It was a shame, Draco thought, to see such a desperate expression etched on so perfect a face. Wordlessly he shook his head, dropping his eyes in a gesture of shame. He had found no trace of the princess, nor could he discern the reason for her disappearance. The huntsman who had accompanied her into the forest had been captured and detained, but within a matter of hours he was found mysteriously murdered, still in his locked cell.

Queen Bellatrix must have seen the despair on his face. She descended the stairs, her silken slippers whispering across the marble, until she was level with him and tipped his chin up until they locked eyes. They were soft and grey and they held nothing but affection and warmth for him, but all Draco felt was trapped. He was pinned under her gaze and something about her eyes, something he could not identify, made his blood run cold and bile rise in his throat. He fought to keep his expression neutral.

"I will not give up the hunt, dear Draco," she murmured. Her voice was low and husky, the moment was intimate, far too intimate. She sighed loudly, "but, my sweet boy, I think you must start to come to terms with the idea that we may not retrieve her. Take the time to recover, brief my best men on what land you have covered, but I think you should not continue on your quest." Her grey eyes poured into his, filled with deepest regret and concern, "it is only making you sick."

X

It was after he had taken his evening meal alone in his room, after he had bathed, after he had wept that Draco finally realised what it was that had been nagging at him as he stood, helpless in the Queen's steely gaze. He lay in bed, ensconced in the thick quilts, his head cushioned by the softest pillows, but still he tossed and turned restless and fearful filled with fears for his princess, for his Hermione.

As he pondered her whereabouts the unconscious depths of his mind were scouring his memories for the reason he felt so uncomfortable, so afraid, in the presence of Queen Bellatrix and as the realisation hit home, he shot out of bed.

She had arranged everything.

She had sent the huntsman out into the forest as warden of the princess. She had had him killed in his cell. She had insisted on helping him plan his routes through the forest and had insisted her men guide him so he did not go astray.

Draco leapt from the bed, padding quickly across the freezing stone floor to the large table by the window. He looked at the worn map spread across it, yellowed with age and curling at the corners. He traced the thick of the forest, mouthing to himself soundlessly as he traced the routes he had taken through the forest over the past month. There was a pattern, a gap large enough to keep her hidden from him. A whole area of the forest that he had been escorted around but never through.

Draco dressed quickly in thick dark clothes. He would have to sneak out, past her guards and go for himself into the deep, dark forest. It was the only way he could know if he was right, if she had been leading him astray all this time, just to keep them apart.

Draco silently tugged his door open and slid into the dark and empty eyes haunted by the tinge of malice that sharpened those cold, grey eyes.

X

It had not taken him long to pick up on the trail, old as it was, bits and pieces of her escape through the forest had survived the easy summer and Draco followed them with a skill born of years spent hunting with his father and friends. His heart was in his mouth and the more he discovered the worse he felt. He did not know how she could have befallen such terror and misfortune and survived.

Eventually, as the sun turned the sky a soft shade of rose, Draco found her.

The clearing was natural, not man made. Old, tall trees formed an uneven circle around the small glade and the husk of early dawn cast long shadows. The carpet of soft grass and flowers was covered with due which shimmered in the early morning light but it was the centre of this small paradise that caught and held the attention of all who might come across it.

She lay in the hollow trunk of a fallen tree upon a bed of grass. Her head rested on a small, white, beautifully embroidered pillow and her long, dark hair flared around her offsetting the pale white of her skin and deep rose of her perfect mouth.

Draco moved closer, ignoring the dew that soaked into his feet. He looked at the gentle curve of her nose, the dark crescent of her eyelashes fanned on her delicate cheeks. Her slender body was dressed in a pale green gown and her long, graceful fingers lay interlaced on her stomach.

She looked to be in a deep, peaceful sleep, but as Draco rested a hand on the thin barrier of glass that protected her from the environment, he knew that was not the case.

"She didn't suffer."

Draco turned slightly and looked behind him. Seven small men appeared out of the ever-lightening forest. They looked at him with a mixture of pity and sorrow. The one with the longest beard stepped forward.

"We were just coming home as she bit the apple. I don't know what was in it, the woman who gave her it disappeared instantly, but it only took one bite. She fell almost instantly and by the time we got to her she, she was gone."

Draco nodded, not really processing what he was hearing. He was so close to her and yet she was still so far away. She would forever be so far away. He rested his forehead against the glass, squeezing his eyes tight shut.

No one spoke for several minutes.

"Can-" Draco started but it was a hoarse whisper that died. Grief choked him, it stole his voice and his words. He coughed, trying to force some life back into his throat. "Can I say goodbye?"

For a few seconds, no one spoke and Draco thought they would deny him this last request but he heard them approach and stood silently aside as they worked together to remove the protective covering that shielded his sleeping beauty.

"Oh Hermione," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes as he collapsed to his knees beside her still form. His hands hovered over her, unwilling to touch but desperate to feel the softness of her skin. He allowed one hand to settle on her pale cheek which he stroked gently.

"I'm sorry, my love. So sorry. I wish I had known, I wish I could have protected you, and now as my punishment, I must spend eternity without you." He sighed, leaning forward over her. "I only hope that we will meet again someday, it is a hope I will take to my grave."

Draco looked at her, committing her perfect face to memory. Even in death she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and would ever see. He pressed his lips to her, imagining warmth where there was only the chill of death.

He pulled back. "Goodbye, my love."

Hermione did not gasp, she did not shoot into a sitting position. She did not cry out and a shiver did not run down her body.

But her eyes did open.

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Much Love MaryandMerlin x