Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters used in this fanfic.
Warnings: Character death, violence, blood, and a smut scene. You have been warned!
(Edited: 11/28/08, typos fixed and text added)
…………………………………………
The Heart Behind Those Eyes
…………………………………………
"Once upon a time, I would've said that this is where you belonged. I'm not so sure now. No, that's a lie. I was sure you didn't belong here the very first time you actually touched me as if I were a human being, just like you."
Hermione swallowed the small sob that rose, forcing herself to keep the strong front before him. Or what was left of him.
A large marble tombstone with his name engraved on it in a fancy calligraphy. Always the best for Draco Malfoy.
The grass was the greenest she had ever seen and it smelled freshly cut. The trees around the graveyard were trimmed, well kept, and absolutely beautiful. They added peace to such a morbid place.
"Pa-pa," said the little person in her arms.
Hermione smiled and looked down at her little son, who would be turning one in two days. Lysander. His name meant, one who is freed. When she had found out that she was expecting him, she had felt freed. She had felt alive after so many deaths and losses. She had found another reason to live. The war had been over just a few weeks. A war where she had lost everyone she loved except for Harry.
Her mother, her father. Ginny. Ron. Draco… Draco… Draco Malfoy…
A year and nine months.
That was the amount of time that had taken her to gather her courage and come to see him here, in his final resting place. She'd just come from leaving her parents and Ron some flowers, and this was her last stop.
She had believed that her heart and soul would be forever lost after all she had gone through the last few days before the culmination of the war, but then she had found out about Lysander. She had realized that Draco had left her something precious before he was killed in the war.
Their story had never been a romantic one, there had been no hidden desires while they had been in school, and he had never wanted her that way before. They had been together for a short time before his father had taken him from her. Hermione tried to convince herself that it was better that they hadn't spent too much time together because maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much to see his name engraved on an expensive piece of rock.
Draco had been a misguided teen all his life, and she shuddered to remember the things he had done while in school during sixth year. He was responsible for professor Dumbledore's death and for Harry's unhappiness. But he hadn't been a bad person. He had let her into that heart of ice and had showed her, muggle-born Hermione Granger, that there was just a scared boy underneath.
He had saved her life a week before the war, then again during the war.
At those thoughts, her resolve broke. "It's my fault you're gone," she sobbed, her chest heaving with emotion, tears falling unbidden from her eyes. She had made herself promise she wouldn't fall apart like this.
Lysander looked at her from under a mop of rich chestnut hued hair, a mix between her wild locks and Draco's silky, flaccid hair. His dark gray eyes were intent on her face before he offered her a big smile and hugged her. Then he started to babble out words in which she only understood, "flowers," "crackers," "cookie monster," and "momma."
He was smart and beautiful and looked so much like his father, her heart ached every time she looked at him. The baby had amazing colored eyes. Those eyes that reflected his father's eyes so well but in a darker shade. This was Draco. His innocence before it had been corrupted by his father. All the good in them both and none of the bad.
"Pa-pa," he repeated.
Hermione laughed and sobbed at the same time, hugging the tiny boy to her. "Yes, baby, your daddy is resting here. He never knew that you were coming into this world, but he would've loved you," she murmured as she kissed his little nose.
"Ha-i," the baby babbled.
"Uncle Harry is at home," she replied, finally being able to admit proudly that she could decipher her son's baby dialect. "He's waiting for us so that we can go to lunch."
Harry. Poor Harry, he was just as lonely as she was. He had lost Ginny and Cho to the war also. He had withdrawn into himself those first few days, just like she had. The things they had seen, what they had done and experienced during the war was more than any normal teenager, or adult for that matter, could handle.
Harry loved Lysander like a son and since his birth, had been the only father the baby knew. It hadn't taken Hermione long to realize that her son was like a healing balm to them both. Had Lysander not existed, she feared that she and Harry would've been lost to depression and madness.
The war, the death, the heartache had taken away their childhood. As she, Harry, and Ron had gone off to find the remainder Horcruxes, there had been outbreaks of attacks in muggle London and in the wizarding world alike. The death eaters were killing without care, so the three of them had taken it upon themselves to retaliate against Voldemort and his minions.
That was how she had lost the very last of her innocence, save for one last thing. She had murdered death eaters in cold blood, and at the time had felt very little guilt. Now though, the nightmares were bad whenever she didn't take her dreamless potion and the guilt of taking a life--any life--weighed down on her heavily.
She reminded herself that had it not been for what they had done, the number of casualties would have been higher. That's how she had been captured by Voldemort's minions and had found herself under the captivity of Lucius and Draco Malfoy.
Saying it that way made her imprisonment seem less harsh than it actually had been. When in reality, the experience had left her half sane by the time Voldemort had been done with her.
Her memories took her back to that day. Together, between she and Ron, they had destroyed a total of ten death eater hide-outs, and she had lost count of the death eaters that had died in those attempts.
Hermione shifted her son against her hip and cleaned away her tears. The past was behind her and she had an all new future to look forward to. She just wished fervently that her son never discovered the atrocities his parents had committed in their younger years. Though she knew that the day would come when she would have to explain to him about the war and the role she had played in it.
The night of her capture, Ron had been severely hurt while they attacked a death eater hide out. The mission had gone wrong because they had only counted four death eaters. In the fight, Ron had killed Rookwood and Dolohov, while she had taken out McNair and Greyback.
They hadn't known that Lucius Malfoy had paid the men an impromptu visit, and he had dodged a quickly thrown jinx and had faked being hit. He had immobilized her and taken her to Voldemort before Ron had been able to shake off the disarming spell. He had escaped though, and Hermione was thankful that they had been under Glamour charms, so Lucius hadn't recognized them; she knew that Lucius would have been more than happy to take them both to Voldemort had he known who they were.
And thus began her own personal hell on earth……
………………
"Wake up little mudblood," a voice sing-songed. "The dark lord has a few things to settle with you."
She groaned awake and found that she was inside a dark cell with bars and no windows. She was bound to the stone wall by shackles on her wrists, her throat was dry, and her head was throbbing in pain. As soon as she looked up, Lucius Malfoy sent a slap across her cheek that made her teeth rattle.
"You're wearing a glamour charm, aren't you?" he asked in that annoying, drawling voice.
"Step aside, Lucius, let me look at her," said a hissing voice quietly.
Hermione's eyes focused on the sinister lord himself, her breathing slow and even, not an ounce of fear showing on her, though inside her pulse was thudding like a trapped thing. She stared death in the eye that night and smiled at it.
With a wave of his wand, her altered appearance—black hair and green eyes—was gone, replaced by the wild bushy hair and simple light brown eyes of Hermione Granger.
"Ah, Miss Granger, the most cunning mind ever seen in a mudblood. I should have assumed that you were the one behind the attacks on my followers," Voldemort said darkly. "Though how a dirty, little mudblood child accomplished that by herself, I'll never know."
Several death eaters, standing around her cell, laughed as if he had said a marvelous joke. "You alone destroyed Greyback? How ever did you accomplish that?" Voldemort asked, as if genuinely curious.
"She murdered him in cold blood, my lord," said Lucius. "Slit his throat from behind with a blade made of pure silver," he said as he showed Voldemort the blood encrusted blade he held inside a black velvet cloth.
Hermione smiled slightly, wincing as her cheek stung. "I'll be getting that back before this war is over, and if you're lucky enough, you'll get to feel what Greyback felt when I stuck the blade into his throat," she vowed.
"Why you insolent little bit—!" Lucius started.
"Lucius," Voldemort said simply, halting the man's insults. Hermione looked at Voldemort and narrowed her eyes when he smiled. "Crucio," he purred, almost with joy in his voice.
The pain was excruciating, it felt like needles were being jammed into her body, and as the pain grew, it felt like nails instead of needles as she struggled against her bonds, her wrists chaffed raw.
She did not scream, nothing past groans of pain that went on for what felt like hours, but were only minutes. "This is only the beginning, you filth," said Voldemort before leaving the dank cell, his men following him.
The last thing Hermione heard him say was, "Break her until she gives up Potter's location. Legillimency will not work, she's a very skilled Occlumens, but we'll tire her out mentally and physically in order to get what we want."
Lucius stepped back inside the cell, holding the silver blade that belonged to her, the silver glinting in the firelight, blood free. Behind Lucius stood Bellatrix Lestrange, who took the blade and ran her fingers over the sharp tip almost lovingly.
"You can try all you want, but Harry will be gone from our hiding place by now," Hermione spat furiously.
"Yes, but you must still know your rendezvous points, and my sister-in-law here has a knack for torture. The magical way as well as the muggle way," Lucius said with an almost feral grin.
Hermione just stared at them blankly. To protect Harry, she was willing to endure any kind of pain. Harry was the key to their survival, and she was—well, she was obsolete.
…………
They had done everything short of physical rape to her, which Bellatrix had said the Dark Lord would leave for last if she didn't trully break. The 'Crucio' had been the least painful of them all. Together, Bellatrix and Lucius had come up with a curse that made her head feel as if it were splitting in two as they forced her to answer questions. Bellatrix had used the blade to carve her flesh as Lucius had used a whipping curse against her back until she passed out from the pain.
When she recovered consciousness, she was laying on her side, every single part of her body was burning in pain and still bleeding from what appeared to be every single wound. She had no idea how long she had been out.
Her breathing hitched at the painful sensation surrounding her body, tears coming from her eyes in torrents. She couldn't even move without hurting everywhere. She wasn't even aware of her rapid, hitching breath as she planted her hands on the damp floor, crying out in pain.
She moved to the corner and was sick, emptying her stomach contents onto the floor. The lesions in her back were on fire as she struggled to control herself, and through the haze of the agony, she heard his voice.
"Why don't you just give away his location? Potter isn't worth all this pain," Draco Malfoy drawled.
Hermione moved away from the mess and collapsed onto the floor, breathing loud and ragged to her own ears. "You wouldn't know anything about loyalty and friendship, so why should I bother explaining? Besides, they'll kill me anyways even if it tell them where Harry may be," she spat quietly, voice rising at the end in pain.
"You know what my job is now, Granger?" he asked with a smirk.
"You mean you're doing something aside from kissing your father's arse? I honestly don't care," said Hermione waspishly.
Draco cast an 'Alohamora' on the barred door and stepped in, vanishing the mess she had made with a disgusted sneer. He closed the cell door and kneeled beside her. "The dark lord has appointed me your healer. You know what that means? I have to make you new again so that you'll be ready for more pain until you give up Potter's whereabouts," he said as he looked at her injuries with a curled lip. "I thought you'd be smarter than this, mudblood."
Hermione scoffed. "I can say the same to you," she spat, groaning slightly as the pain sharpened.
"Really? Why?" he asked, looking over the extent of her injuries. There were some that would scar, he mused.
"You're too smart to spend the rest of your life bowing down to that abomination. What do you see in your future, Malfoy?" she asked softly.
"You're not going to survive this war, you know," he replied, ignoring her question.
"Perhaps. But at least I know I'll go down a fighter and not as a servant," she stated, voice laced with disgust.
"Shut your face, you filthy mudblood, and remember that you are nothing more than a waste of oxygen. You're safe while the dark lord needs you, and when he has Potter in his hands, you will lose what little value you're worth."
She grunted, not caring in the least for what he had said. "If you have true courage, true conviction in your cause, you'll kill me yourself. What better way to prove your worth than by killing me and vindicating your failure with Professor Dumbledore?" she sneered. Hermione was bitterly pleased when she saw a brief flash of pain and regret in his eyes before it was gone, his eyes as cold and smoky as they had always been in that thin, pointed face. Maybe she had imagined seeing a change in them. Malfoy said nothing more as he healed her wounds and left the bruises untouched.
And for the following week, it became a sort of ritual. They starved her those days and gave her very just enough water and bread to keep her alive.
On day eight, Voldemort chose to take over her torture personally, using an all new and different tactic. He used spells that inserted horrifying images into her head. Things that were enough to break her mind. She had been teetering on the verge of going mad until she begged him to stop, until he finally made her shriek to end the agony he was subjecting her to.
She gave up a location.
But what they would find would be an ambush. Death eaters would walk into auror territory, and not just any aurors, but specially trained ones. Men and women who wouldn't hesitate in using dark magic to capture their enemies. Hermione had no doubt that Voldemort would make her pay dearly, maybe even kill her for deceiving him, but at least he had stopped the torment.
She sat in one of the corners of the dark cell, curled into a tight ball, dirty and starved, and nearly mentally broken. Her eyes were wild as she watched Malfoy approach the cell.
"There's nothing for you to heal today," she said in a hoarse voice. "No wounds, no blood to clean. Disappointed?"
He kneeled across from her view and shook his head. "I was there; I saw what he did to you. I'm relieved, actually, that I don't have to come into contact with your foul blood tonight."
Hermione laughed bitterly and a tad hysterically as she looked at him closely. He looked even thinner than he had been, his eyes sunken in and with dark patches underneath. His lips were tight pale lines and his skin was chalky.
"What did he do to you, Draco?" she asked.
He was startled by his first name coming from her lips. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying for nonchalance, but she saw right through it. It was in the stiffness of his shoulders and the wild look in his eyes that matched her own.
"For your failure at Hogwarts," said Hermione quietly.
"I've been properly reprimanded for my mistakes," he replied in a tone devoid of any emotion.
"You're as tired of this as we all are," she said quietly. "Why didn't you join our side?"
Draco snorted derisively. "You mean the good side? Please Granger, I was born and bred for this," he said, motioning with his hand to their surroundings.
"What? A life of darkness and servitude for a demented mind? If that—that thing wins, what kind of world will come of this? The cost? A mass murder of innocent people who were born without magic when it wasn't their fault? Is it my fault that my blood isn't as pure as yours?" she questioned. They were silent for a moment.
Draco stared at her, his face and eyes completely blank. "Eat this," he said as he tossed her a green apple.
Hermione caught it with a fatigued groan, looking at the fruit for a long moment, wondering if she should. "If I wanted to harm you, I would've done it by now," he said impatiently, running a nervous hand through his hair. "You have to hurry. I have to vanish the leftovers before I go."
She bit into the apple with relish. A week without any real food aside from small pieces of stale bread here and there had been hell. She ate it slowly, almost painfully, and it took her longer than she had ever been with an apple.
Draco vanished what was left just as she had taken the last bite. She looked at him and scoffed quietly. "Thank you," she said.
He just nodded once before standing and leaving.
…………………………
The next time she saw Malfoy was after being properly punished for lying to the dark lord and causing the deaths of at least ten death eaters, two days later. But she felt none of the physical pain anymore.
Voldemort had made her pay by killing her parents. They had been in hiding, and Hermione couldn't even think about how it was that he had found them. He had burned the entire building where they had been staying in until it had caved in over the innocent people living there as well as her parents. He had shown her the memory in the pensieve. Their screams of agony as the fire roared and swallowed them would be forever in Hermione's mind.
Harry was safe though, he and Ron had fought alongside the aurors and had killed the majority of the death eaters. In that fight, Ginny and Luna Lovegood had been lost, or so Malfoy told her as he healed the bruises and wounds caused from a beating provided by Rodolphus Lestrange and some other men she hadn't gotten a glimpse of.
Hermione wished she had the strength to take it all, the death of her parents, of two close friends, one being the love of Harry's life. The physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish she felt over the death of her loved ones and the innocent people.
Her shoulder was dislocated and the entire right side of her face was wet with her own blood, a result from a blow to her face that had slammed her head-first against the stone wall. She started to sob softly as Malfoy healed the wound on her head, his face set in concentration.
"I have to set your shoulder," he said softly, but she ignored him, her fingers dragging over the blood on her face, painting her neck and chest with crimson. She just cried out once as he set the bone back.
Draco kneeled there for a long moment, watching her as she cried in silence, her eyes on the ceiling. Her tears were creating small groves as they washed away some of the blood on her face. "I'm sorry," he finally said, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket and wetting it with a small jet of water from his wand. He then cleaned the blood from her face gently, watching her eyelids flutter close. He thought that maybe she had passed out, but her voice rang in the solitude of the cell.
"Why didn't you just let me die?" she asked, sitting up. She was vaguely surprised when he helped her by holding her arm. "Does it give you joy to heal my wounds and alleviate my pain, knowing that it will start all over again?"
"I have no choice," he snapped. "It's not up to me, I thought you understood that by now!"
"It's always your choice!" she hissed. "You could've put this life behind you and gone for something better! Your mother and father made a choice for this life, if Voldemort kills them, it will be their own fault," she said venomously. "You don't have to live their lives, you have a choice to live your own."
"You say that because you're parents are already dead," he spat.
Slap! Her hand made contact with his face, nearly making him lose his balance from where he had been kneeling, they were that close. "How—how dare you say that to me!" she shrieked.
"It's the truth!" he snarled back. "Had Voldemort had them in his custody and had made you decide between them and Potter, who would you have chosen?" he asked vindictively, rubbing at his hurting, red cheek.
She broke all over again, sagging and nearly falling backwards. "I can't even mourn them. They're gone and it's my entire fault," she sobbed, not even realizing that Draco's arm was around her, holding her up.
"I don't have a choice," he murmured. "I've never had it. I didn't hate muggle-borns when I was a child. I was forced to hate them. I was blackmailed into that mission of either killing Dumbledore or witnessing the death of my parents and then getting killed myself in the most brutal and painful way. Don't tell me you wouldn't have given up anything to protect your mother and father."
She was about to retort that her parents had been good, loving people and not murdering bigots, but she bit the inside of her mouth to keep silent. She needed the comfort and didn't care who was providing it. Instead, Hermione rubbed her cheek against his warm cloak, wetting it with her tears. "Anything. Except giving up the man who was meant to save us from a violent future, a man who happens to be one of my best friends," she whispered.
Draco hesitated before tilting her face up and pressing his lips to hers. Hermione made a noise of surprise, but said nothing. She didn't have the strength to stop him. She was so tired of everything. The war, Voldemort, the death of her family and friends, the pain, the fucking pain. She wasn't one who usually gave in to curse words, but they seemed appropriate for the situation she currently found herself in.
He hauled her to her feet, pushing her against cold wall, and she grunted in pain as he pressed against the still tender healed wounds and bruises. His hands were inside the torn remains of her sweater and dirty top. She wasn't completely filthy, Draco had been helping her with cleaning spells for the last few days, not enough for her to look fresh, but enough so that she didn't smell or look disgusting.
Hermione knew of the risks he was going through when he sneaked her fruit and helped her keep clean, she had never known that he was capable of doing a good deed. But he had done it. She gasped against his ear when his hand slipped down the front of her dirty, torn, black pants.
He was painfully hard against her thigh, and she was so very ready against his seeking fingers. This wasn't something she had imagined doing while in captivity. "I've—I've…" she gasped against his neck as she felt him shove off her pants and then start working on the fly of his own.
"I want you, please say yes," he pleaded as he sucked on her neck.
Hermione couldn't deny that she was afraid of what he was asking her. She had never been with a man before. She had never gone past heavy snogging with Ron, but their relationship had hit a roadblock and they weren't together anymore. This was all new territory for her and though a part of her was screaming about wearing a white wedding dress one day, at the moment nothing mattered. Her parents and friends were dead, innocent people were still dying, and she… she would soon be dead as well. All she had to do was resign herself to it. Harry's safety was more important, and right now they couldn't risk breaking into Voldemort's stronghold. This would probably be the last good thing she ever felt in her life.
"Yes," she whispered before kissing him. "Yes."
He moved forward slowly, little by little as if sensing that this was her first time. This Draco, this man she held against her was so at odds with the Malfoy she had known during school. She liked this man and wished desperately that he stayed this way. But she was wishing for the impossible. Draco staying this way was like wishing for him to help set her free.
"Sweet Merlin," he groaned against her throat, filling her completely as she gasped in pain. "So bloody tight," he whispered.
Hermione clutched his shoulders, her feet weren't touching the ground anymore; he was taller than she had remembered him being. "Wrap your legs around my hips," he said hoarsely.
She did as told and her breathing quickened as he began to move, his hands on her bum as he moved into her furiously. It was quick and hard, and so at odds with anything Hermione had ever imagined experiencing. But it didn't diminish the fact that she was enjoying it immensely, even through the pain she felt tearing through her.
"Oh, Draco," she whispered against his neck, one hand in his hair. She could taste his sweat on her tongue as he kept moving, shoving her against the wall again and again.
Hermione's mouth opened as the heat grew inside her belly and spread over her entire body in a sensation she had never experienced before. She was so caught up in her own pleasure that she didn't hear Draco groan her name, not Granger, but Hermione, as he followed her with the spasms of their release. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes, and she wondered if he had ever done it before, but it didn't matter. At least he had gotten her to the end without him being selfish.
He held her for a long moment before placing her back on her feet and reluctantly releasing her. He cast a quick cleaning spell on them both and they fixed their clothing lest someone catch onto what they had just done.
Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her gently, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" she asked quietly, playing with a lock of his limp hair.
"For letting your pain go on and on. I convinced myself that your pain would be my pleasure, but it wasn't. What I saw him do to you today made me sick, sicker than any of the physical torture," he whispered. "I'm going to help you out of here."
Hermione's eyes grew wide. "But he'll kill you."
"You told me that I'll always have a choice," Draco said with a light smirk. "I know I've made it," he said as he pushed something into her hands.
She stared down at her wand and the silver blade. "You'll need these," he said.
"Come with me," she pleaded.
Draco shook his head. "I will never be accepted. Not this close to the end. They'll say that I'm doing it to save my own skin."
"But if you stay, they'll know right away that I was you. Please, come with me!" she said urgently.
"No. I have to get away, but I can't go back with you. In order for you to be safe, I have to stay away. Now go, please!"
"At least escape with me! I have to know that you're safely away!" Hermione said stubbornly.
Draco stared into those wide brown eyes and succumbed. "Okay. But we have to go now, before anyone realizes that we're both gone," he said as he took her hand and opened the cell.
………………………………
Hermione rocked her son and smiled. He was sleeping against her shoulder, probably because he had been bored of her standing around.
They had gotten away with minimal violence. They had encountered a few death eaters in their path, but had quietly taken them out. They had escaped to a far away town where they had said their goodbye's to each other. She hadn't cried, but it had made her sad that she wouldn't see him again.
The war had been near and she had been sure that she wouldn't survive it. He had left, face set in that familiar smirk before he had apparated away. Her welcome at the Order's headquarters had been a great one, though they were still in mourning over the losses. Harry and Ron hadn't let her out of her sight the entire night, but she had needed the solitude to think on all that had happened. Malfoy had acted courageously, despite all his other shortcomings, but she feared that the retaliation against him for setting her free would be a big one. Voldemort would want him hunt down unless something was done.
A few days later, after a bit of uneasy rest, she had recounted her imprisonment and her escape, telling them exactly where Voldemort was located and with approximately how many men he had at his disposal.
A week and a half later, the war had reached its climax and culmination.
……………………………
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Ron!" Hermione screamed, her voice raw. She looked into the eyes of Lucius Malfoy and lost all common sense and her scruples. She was under a protection shield as she approached him. "I'm going to carve you out and choke you with your intestines," she spat.
"Did that waste of pureblood mean something to you?" asked Lucius. He sneered, moving towards her as hexes and curses sailed all around them. "Consider that retribution for taking my son from me. For turning him into a coward."
"That was repercussion of your work, Lucius. Draco didn't deserve the life you gave him," Hermione said calmly, her wand trained on him as they stared each other down.
"You'll pay for what you cost me, mudblood. The dark lord took my wife from me because of you," Lucius said as he sent a curse at her. The force of it threw her onto the ground, but the protection charm helped keep her conscious.
Lucius ran over to her and stuck his wand to her neck, pulling her own out of her hands. "I'm going to enjoy raping you to death, mudblood. I want a taste of what you gave to my son. I want to see what it is that made him turn his back to all that he was trained to follow. You will pay for every single thing you have cost me."
"What I took from you is nothing compared to what you and Voldemort took from me," she hissed, taking the advantage of his shock at saying his lord's name, and drove the blade into his chest to the hilt. His grey eyes, so like Draco's, stared at her as his life essence began to leave him, trailing warm over her hands. "Your blood is just as red as mine, Lucius," she said, twisting the knife inside him.
Lucius coughed up blood and then slumped, his body falling heavily over hers. Hermione grunted with the drop and felt the knife dig in deeper. She could feel his blood seeping into her clothes as she tried to shove him off and slowly stood, grabbing her wand as she ran over to Ron's body. He was pale, lifeless and she sobbed against his chest as the death eaters began to fall back, as Voldemort's defeat was imminent. "Oh, Ron. I'm so sorry, so sorry," she cried, closing his open eyes. "You saved my life, didn't you? That killing curse had been meant for me," she whispered raggedly.
"Granger!" Someone called, just as she heard Harry strike the final blow that destroyed Tom Riddle once and for all. She looked up, blinded by her tears for a moment.
Then she spotted him. He was running towards her, a band of red around his arm to show that he wasn't an enemy. She sat, stunned to see him again. "Malfoy?" she asked softly.
He fell to his knees in front of her and cupped her face in his hands, spotting the blood on her clothes. "Are you injured?" he asked through her wracking sobs. "Are you hurt anywhere!" he finally yelled, shaking her.
She shook her head and looked down at Ron, Draco followed her line of sight and looked sick. "I'm so sorry," he murmured before kissing her forehead.
"Why did you come back?" she asked quietly. "This place still isn't safe," she said as she looked around the battlefield.
"I came back for you," he said before kissing her softly.
"For me? Why?" she questioned vaguely. She could feel herself disconnecting with what was going on around her. It was all a bad dream and Ron was still alive. He wasn't laying next to her, his body cooling rapidly, with eyes that had been so emtpy.
"Because you made me realize that I have a choice, and I chose you. I want you. I don't know since when, but it has been that way for a long time. You're the purest and best thing I have ever had in my life and I can't—don't—want to be without you," he murmured rapidly.
Hermione smiled. "I want you too. I've missed you so much. Sometimes I dream of you, but then it turns into a nightmare as I remember all that I went through. I haven't slept a peaceful night in so long."
"I want to hold you while you sleep, I want to wake up to you every morning. I want to be the only one to kiss your lips," Draco murmured before kissing her.
There was a loud sound of someone applauding. "Very touching, son," Lucius said cynically, standing and looking as if he would lose his balance any minute as blood blossomed from his chest.
Draco and Hermione pulled away and stood, Draco in front of her, trying to protect her from anything his father tried.
"You abandoned everything for a filthy piece of trash like her," Lucius said in disgust.
"She's the first person who saw me, the first person to give me a choice on where to go with my life," Draco said flatly.
Lucius sneered. "The dark lord killed your mother because of the choice you made, Draco."
Draco felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. "Mother," he murmured, his heart hurting in his chest. He focused on his father again. "I loved my mother, and you forced her into this life the same way you did to me. If she's gone, it's your fault!" he screamed.
Before either Draco or Hermione could react, Lucius attacked. "Sectumsempra!"
The spell hit Draco brutally and caught Hermione's arm, cutting into the flesh with so much force that she nearly fell back. But Draco took the brunt of the attack and his blood fell on Hermione.
She wasn't even aware of the words that were leaving her mouth at the moment and how much she meant them. "Avada Kedavra!"
Lucius's body hit the floor, lifeless and graceless. Hermione ran to Draco and saw that he was struggling for breath, blood gurggling from his mouth. "Oh, Draco," she whispered. "I'll heal you, give me a minute," she said as she grabbed her wand with trembling fingers.
"It's too late, Hermione," he whispered thickly. "This is what I deserve."
She shook her head. "No. No!" she yelled. "No one deserves this. You repented and you helped us win," she said as she fingered the red cloth on his arm. "Please stay with me. Please!"
"Severus was the only one who knew how to heal these wounds properly, and he was killed a week before you were captured. It's too late for me," he whispered, coughing more blood and convulsing slightly as his eyes glazed over. "I just regret not seeing you before for who you really were. I'm sorry, Hermione."
"Stay with me, Draco. Stay with me," she whispered, kissing his fluttering eyelids. "You'll be okay," she said. "You'll be okay and we'll be able to get to know each other. We'll have a life together, away from the prejudice of our bloods. This will be a new world!"
He offered her a very rare, genuine smile and touched her cheek with a bloody hand, frowning when he left it stained red with his own blood. This wasn't how he had imagined his life would be. "Take care of yourself, Granger. I-I... I lo..." His body gave a great shudder and the last breath left his body.
………………………………………
Hermione had shrieked her pain to the world on that cold night. The surviving aurors had had to tear her from his and Ron's body's, and to do so had charmed her unconscious. When she had awoken, the bodies had been taken care of and she had been in a bedroom at St. Mungo's.
She had been out for a few days and her top priority had been Harry, who was in the room right next to hers. The healer had forced her to lie back down, and had then informed her of her current state. That she was now supposed to take care of herself because she was expecting. "Expecting what?" she had asked stupidly. A baby. Her life had changed forever that day in that hospital room.
At first, remaining friends had thought that maybe she had been raped while being held captive, but she had shot their assumptions down. She had told them right off the bat that she knew who the father was and that it wasn't Ron. The only person that had known the truth had been Harry, and he had known that Draco was Lysander's father right from the start. Harry had been there for her every step of the way and Hermione had realized long ago that she couldn't have done it without him.
It had taken her and Harry a long time to heal, though she wouldn't jump so far ahead and say that they were okay now. She feared that their lives would never be normal in every sense of the word again, and they were still in the process of putting their lives back in order. It was hard, moving forward without Ron, and without all the most important people in their lives, but they were gone, and the war had been won. It was over.
Hermione smiled at her son and kissed his cheek. "Your father would be so proud to know that he had a son like you. He would've been even prouder to know that you will grow up to become a good man. One who values people for who they are and not for what type of blood they have," she whispered against Lysander's silky hair.
She turned back to the father of her son and nodded. "I love you, Draco. I won't tell you again, but at least you know. You showed me the heart behind those cold, gray eyes and I will never forget that. I'll miss you always," Hermione said before placing a white rose over his tombstone. "I'll be seeing you… some day."
She gathered her son close and began to walk away, towards the apparition point.
………………………………………
"Sad, isn't it?"
"What is?" asked a voice impatiently.
"That she has to mourn an empty grave," replied the female.
"Shove it, Tonks. It's bad enough to know that I will never be able get to know her better, and to not see my own son grow up. You don't have to remind me of it," spat the man.
"It's for her own safety. Hers and the baby. We still haven't captured all the death eaters out there, and they'll harm Hermione and your son if they know that you're alive, Draco," Tonks said sadly. "Maybe some day she'll be able to know that you're alive, but for now, it's best to keep Pandora's box closed."
Draco watched Hermione go sadly. He was alive by a miracle, and he was under the secret protection of the ministry while they hunted down the remaining death eaters. And while they were loose, he wouldn't be with Hermione or their son.
As long as they were safe, he was willing to wait. Hermione had taught him that he always had a choice, and maybe they would see each other soon.
…
…
…
…
…
What did you guys think of this one shot? I hope you liked it. I just cooked it up in two days and wrote it, so cut me some slack if there are a lot of errors. There was a poem to go with that title, but I didn't have time to include it, maybe I can post it as a second chapter or if you want to read it, let me know. I have really wanted to write a dark fic for a long time, but not too graphic. This may have a stand alone sequel, but I haven't decided it yet. Let me know what you thought and I'll see you guys soon!
Byebye
!Joey!
(Edited: 11/28/08)