Crying Rain
"Hermione, wake up," the pale blond boy shook her sleeping body again and again, trying to rouse her. But she would not wake.
A world where everything was light. Bright lights were everywhere, whether you looked up to find an endless sky going up until you can't see anything except a bright white aurora. If you were to look down, you would find yourself walking on nothing except the clear wind you couldn't see but you could feel.
She was better off in this world.
Three years after graduation, the war with Voldemort was coming to an end. The Dark Lord had almost won, and with almost all the Aurors dead, quite a few loyal Death Eaters, he was rising back to the top.
Harry Potter was long gone killed, during one year after graduation. It was a sad and dark day for the Wizarding World; the Boy who Lived became the Boy who Died.
Everyone was so sure that Harry would have defeated Voldemort. No one expected him to fall. No one.
When his body hit the floor, the loud thud could've been heard throughout everywhere.
And it became silent and everyone became dead still.
Everyone was there to see it too. But no one rushed out to cradle Harry's body in their arms. No one stepped out to claim Harry's victory which was so near. No one even shed a tear.
In the crowd watching stood Hermione. Behind Ron, she held his hand tightly, firmly, almost as if she were clinging for her life.
When Voldemort laughed a high and mighty bellow, mayhem rose in the building, the walls shook and slowly, everything began to crumble. Finally, an out of utter foolishness, Ron rushed out to take his sad vengeance.
Hermione did not even cry when his body hit the floor.
No one knew why she did not cry, her two best friends have been killed by the most evil Wizard in all of history, by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
But she was no longer afraid to utter his name.
But then again, neither was Draco.
"Hermione, come on," he shook her again, harder this time.
She groaned and her eyelids quickly opened. "What is it?" she whispered.
He was silent for a minute. This was going to be very difficult for him to say. Almost painful too.
"Hermione, I'm going somewhere," he started. "It won't be too long-."
Hermione jumped up quickly, eyes wide open in alarm. She threw off the covers of the bed, not minding the cold that brought shivers to her shoulders.
"Where?" she asked trying to hide the panic in her voice.
To avenge the ones we all loved.
"Oh, it won't be long," he smiled at her reassuringly. "It'll just be for a day, we'll be together, I promise." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and relaxed as he saw her shoulders loosen up.
"Oh, okay," she grinned. "But don't take too long. I'll miss you."
Draco smiled. A sad, painful smile. His storm gray eyes filled up with tears which resembled the rain that fell down on him and Hermione the day they first kissed.
He turned away the moment he felt them. "Well, I suppose I'll just be going then."
"So soon?" she pouted.
"Sorry, love. But I'll come back for you. I promise," he looked at her. It was so hard to conceal the breaking of his heart as he gazed upon her pretty face, so full of hope and happiness just to see his face.
He kissed her one more time.
And maybe even one last time.
He headed out the door, ready with his wand tucked in his coat. Everything was up to him now, the great heroes all dead, including Dumbledore, betrayed by Snape himself.
He should've been dead too. And he would've been if it had not been for Hermione's endless pleading for him not to go.
It was delayed for two years but he had to face his destiny.
Then again, it was a 50/50 chance that he could defeat Voldermont. And even with the Dark Lord dead, he still had the Death Eaters to face.
The Wizarding World has become a dark and dreary place. A place where heroes always fall again and again. People are all confined inside their homes, afraid to come out, afraid to speak in fear of being taken in for treason. Afraid to be a hero.
But risks must be taken, even though it meant sacrificing your life for those you love. Hell, if Voldemort was not stopped, he could be targeting Draco and Hermione next, they were after all, known to him.
He really did not want to go. But he had to.
"Sir, Draco Malfoy is here to see you."
"Draco Malfoy?" Voldemort curiously asked. He put down his glass of red wine, the color of recent blood that has been split not long from just an hour ago.
A cloaked figure entered the doorway, slowly and silently. He stopped ten feet in front of Voldemort, bowed, not a deep bow but enough to make Voldemort nod and have his guards stop hovering around the mysterious man.
"Your Lordship, I have come to beg of your forgiveness and humbly return to your side as my father would have wished."
Fuck his father.
Voldemort stroked his chin, thinking. He could be of some use to me. He is after all Lucius Malfoy's son. But something is not right here.
Draco came up from his bow and took one step towards the Dark Lord. This was one step closer to what he was about to do. One.
"Pardon my boldness, Sir," Draco started as he took another step. "Would I be able to join the other Death Eaters anytime soon? I would like to assist you in any way I can." Two.
"Yes, you very well can," smiled Voldemort curtly.
"That's splendid, sir, really," smiled Draco. "I would love to give you a gift," he reached inside his cloak.
"A gift?"
"Yes, sir. A gift," he wrapped his hands around his wand.
"Well, let's see it," Voldemort peered up with interest.
Draco quickly whipped out his wand. "Avada-," before he could finish, Voldemort raised up his hand and a bright white light flew towards Draco, hitting him square in the chest.
Draco fell backward onto the ground and landed with his head hitting the ground. Sparks flew around him, men shouting and through all of this, Draco did not even care anymore.
Hermione.
"Don't touch him!" Voldemort shooed off his men as he rose up off his seat and sauntered towards the blond haired man sprawled on the floor. He stopped when he was looking down at Draco's face.
"I'm not that stupid, you fool," he sneered.
Draco said nothing. His gaze was up but it was not pointed towards Voldemort. It was pointed up towards the ceiling, towards the sky.
Hermione.
"You were a fool to come," Voldemort took out his wand and aimed it towards Draco's heart.
"You know that you would not be strong enough to defeat me. Tell me, amuse me, whatever gave you the idea that you could?"
Draco's mouth was unmoving and he seemed dazed even though he could feel Voldermont's hideous face gazing down upon him.
"Impudent fool! Answer me! Answer me and I won't make your death all that painful!"
"I...," started Draco. "I did it for love."
"Ha! Love!" scoffed Voldemort. "I'd love for you to stick around and hear it but unfortunately you have a death to catch. It was nice working with your father until he started to become old and useless. I had to do away with him."
Hermione.
Draco closed his eyes, ready for the final blow, and ready to leave the world, without his one love.
But he wasn't going to leave without taking a shot at what he had aimed for. He grabbed his wand and together the two men yelled their curses at the same time.
A bright green light flew towards Draco's chest, hitting him with a full impact, making his body jerk off the floor. But Draco never opened his eyes to see.
And then it was dead silent.
She didn't cry when Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived died. She simply just stared at his body, without anything to say. Poor girl, the kind people whispered behind her back. Stupid oaf, the cynics barked at her when they saw her.
And no one understood why she didn't cry when Ron died. Was it because she didn't care about them? Was it because she never loved them?
Hermione had always been a strong person, from the moment she walked into Hogwarts, she had topped the school, setting new records and paving a way for a better future in the Wizarding World.
But she was so tired of being strong.
The moment she had heard the news, written in the headlines in big block letters: "Voldemort Defeated! Draco Malfoy Dead!" She broke down and cried.
Yes, she loved them all the same, but this hurt indeed, more than anything in the world.
As parties raged on all over England, Hermione sat inside her spacious apartment where she and Draco lived together.
He died for her and for the whole entire Wizarding World.
Under shade
Silhouettes
Casting shame
Crying Rain
No, it did not really rain. But this time, Hermione really did cry.
End?