A/N: Hi guys, yes, a story from in after such a long time! Enjoy!
Draco Malfoy knew that he was a pretty fucked up man.
He was the boy, growing up, who had simply made all the wrong choices. Granted, he realized that it was partly his family's fault, as they were always telling him what to do, but in the end… in the end, he was the one who controlled himself. He had the power to choose between right and wrong… and he always chose wrong.
Draco Malfoy was tired of being wrong.
It wasn't easy hiding out in the woods during the Final Battle. Voldemort, as other Death Eaters had told him, was apparently luring in there somewhere. And even though Draco was a strong Legimenist, he had no chance if the Dark Lord decided to step in rummage through his head.
He sighed and rested his back against the trunk of a pine tree. The battle was at Hogwarts, not here. Ever the true Slytherin, he hid, though he could hear the shouts and screams of the victims of war. Draco cringed and shut his eyes tight, his body shuddering with the breath he took.
A breath that should not have been his. He had deserved to die a thousand times over already.
He hated the screams he heard at night, the blood curling ones that kept him awake with blood-shot eyes. He hated his voice as in every single one of memories as he futilely shouted the curse to save his life. Save his own, but take away another's.
He hated that he could still see the pleading in the other's eyes. Damn it! Didn't they realize that he didn't want to do this? That he didn't want this life? He was no longer a swaggering twelve-year old and he was done with the shit hole known as war. He was done seeing himself as a monster.
But the problem with that was that deep down, Draco Malfoy knew he was a monster. And it was selfish for him to keep his life but he would never have the heart to take his beat away.
He could hear the steady rhythm of this heart, and unknowingly, felt the tears began to roll down his cheek. He was a seventeen-year-old boy. He couldn't handle this.
Hermione Granger's mother always told her growing up that everyone had a story. She was a firm believer of seeing the good in people and although her mother was long dead now, both physically and literally, Hermione held on to that belief with all her heart. It was the only thing left of her mother at this point.
Hermione was currently attempting to stealthily follow Rodolphus Lestrange before quickly cornering him and stunning the man (she hadn't killed anyone yet and was really hoping not to. She would leave that for the others). He was the cause of far too many Order member's deaths and although it was stupid and reckless doing it alone, Hermione was sure she could handle it. She was, afterall, the brightest witch of her age.
She followed the man into the Forbidden Forest and watched him from a distance as he met with another Death Eater. She quickly cast a charm and magnified their voices, hearing a bunch of mindless chatter at first about their killings. She listened for a few minutes, with a pained and disgusted feeling growing inside of her, before realizing that nothing was going to happen. And although Hermione was pretty confident in taking down one Death Eater, Hermione was reasonable and she knew that two was a bit too much. She was about to turn away when she heard something that caught her attention.
"Yeah, my personal favorite was actually the Weasley girl."
"The redhead?"
"Yes, that's the one. I made her beg, as she trembled, begging me not to kill her. I had already disarmed her."
"So, then what?"
"Well, obviously the fucking cunt died. But I made her suffer, till the very end. I whispered horror stories into her ear and watched her face fall and used the Cruciatus a few times…."
"Well, go on! Finish! I know you, Rodolphus. You do that to everyone. What made her special?"
"She whispered an apology to me. As if that would make a fucking difference! Ginerva Weasley died believing to some extent that everything bad that was going to happen and did happen was her fault. After all, it's only a matter of time till she would break after her pathetic scar-headed boyfriend died anyway. I killed her as a favor."
Hermione didn't remember what happened. One minute she was lurking in the shadows and the next, she was running face forward towards the two hooded men, tears streaming down her face. She screamed as she tackled one down, and then the other. Everything was a blur and nothing made sense. She finally grabbed onto a tree for support as she sobbed away.
She took no mind of the two lifeless bodies under her.
Draco's body stiffened as he heard noises in the forest. There were many noises that came from the forest, but these noises were not dying down.
He quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and waited, in curiosity, to see who would come. It took a few moments, but finally, a witch, with a mixture of crying and moaning, made her way into the clearing. Draco winced at the discordant noises leaving her throat. He was sure she must have lost a loved one. Only that kind of angst could be released in such a way. He was just about ready to move away when he noticed the hood that was covering most of her face fell away. And at that horribly simplistic fleeting moment, he knew he had to say put and paralysed at the spot. Because even if all he could see at the moment was the back of her head, a mass of bushy brown hair, no matter if it was shoulder length and slightly singed, was simply Hermione Granger's trademark.
Draco mentally cursed himself. Of all people, dear Salazar, why the one girl he was destined to be tied down forever with? It wasn't that he had romantic feelings for her-god forbid, no- but because of the fact that he owed her so much. He had teased her all throughout Hogwart about her blood being filthy, and finally, when she and her friends, Potter and Weasley, were captured and held in Malfoy Manor, he saw her lying on the floor and the blood pooling around her, he came to a starting conclusion that her blood was not brown, it was red. Even Aunt Bella at that point should have been able to see it. So why was it that no one was saying anything? Her blood was the same as his! She was her classmate, for Heaven's sake! He couldn't just let her die! But, he did. He didn't really protect her or hurt her but that didn't matter. He should have done something. But it was again like the many dreams he had. He had to save his own skin first. And helping Granger was certainly a roadblock in that road. So he had no choice but to let her go. How he wished time turners still were in existence.
Hermione was dying. Everything burned. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear, but she felt her mouth opening and closing, howling, perhaps. It was war. Someone would hear her and come to finish her off.
Ironically, a second later, she felt a hand clasp itself over her mouth from behind her. Someone had already found her and Hermione was was going to fight it. She made no move to defend herself.
"Damn it, Granger! Just shut up, will you? You're going to get us killed!" a voice frantically whispered in her year.
Hermione wanted to listen, but problem was, she couldn't stop screaming. She couldn't feel herself anymore. Everything felt numb.
She heard a quiet silencing curse being placed upon her. As the hands released her, she fell to the ground and curled herself into a ball. She let herself think, but all she could remember was that Ginny was dead. Ginny, her friend, her sister. Ginny was dead and there was nothing anyone could do. What could she possibly tell Ron and the Weasleys'? What could she tell Harry? What could she tell herself?!
The brunette's breathing escalated as she started choking and coughing. She could hear shuffling behind her, but she was too tired to see who it was. It didn't matter, she was much too tired.
"Fuck this," the voice muttered as hand gripped her and pulled her to her feet. Turning her around, Hermione found her staring into the concerned eyes of Draco Malfoy.
She stopped moving and a deathly silence fell upon them for several seconds before they were interrupted by a far off shout of terror. Hermione didn't know what to do. So she did the only thing she could. She latched on to him.
If someone had told him two hours ago that Hermione Granger whoered herself out to others, he would have laughed in their face and asked them where they had managed to steal the Firewhiskey. But now… now, Draco wasn't so sure, seeing as her lips attacked his own.
Side effects of the war, Draco thought, as he attempted to push himself away from her. But Hermione grabbed his robe and pushed the sleeve of his left arm up, highlighting the dark blemish of the Dark Mark on Draco's skin.
Draco stiffened. Granger, now speaking into his Adam's apple muttered, "Is this who you are?"
Draco didn't respond, but simply shook his head. No, no he was not. He didn't want this life anymore.
Granger looked up at him and whispered, " Then change your life for one night. Be with me." He looked down at her, the girl with the brown hair and brown eyes. Everything about her was brown, but somehow, her blood was red. And staring into her emotionless eyes, he understood that this was the way she coped. She had sex and he drank too much. She was light and he was dark. But now they were both broken, she the angel and he the devil.
Draco Malfoy decided to make his last wrong choice. Or perhaps the right one. He wasn't sure. But he was dead tired too, as was she, and so he whispered back, "Okay."
It was his last lie.
Hermione awoke in a room. It was dark and cold and she could still feel the dried tears on her cheek. She looked around, searching for a familiar face, but none was to be found. She got up and moaned. Everything seemed to be hurting.
A door opened and she saw a mass of red hair land on her as the figure enveloped her in a large hug.
"Hermione!" the voice, which she realized was Ron's, cried. "Oh Hermione, we were all so worried!" He pressed his lips on hers briefly before moving away. "I'm so glad you're here with me again. I'll leave you to rest."
He headed towards the door again but with a rush, Hermione suddenly asked, "Ron… how did I get here?"
The redhead turned around, his eyebrows knitting together as he replied, "Malfoy. Malfoy suddenly switched sides apparently… he was the one who told us where you were. He apparently stunned you when he saw that you weren't in your right mind and got help. But honestly, I don't think he was in his right mind either. He looked scared…"
Ron trailed off and sighed. "I'm going now."
"He's dead, isn't he?" Hermione whispered.
"Yes, he is. He died in combat." Ron responded awkwardly. "But I need to find Ginny. You haven't seen her have you?"
"No," Hermione stated as smoothly as she could, because she knew in a moment the sobs would come. Ron didn't need that right now.
"Alright, I'm leaving then. Take care."
Hermione's sobs racked the room as soon as Ron left. The pain never ended.
A/N: Okay, I actually hated the end of this story, but to my defence, I wrote it in like 2 hours. It was a writing exercise that I ended up publishing. But please, if you could take the time to leave a comment on some improvements or what you might have liked, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!