Nightingales
She opens her eyes. Sunlight streaming through the window touches the floor next to her. She had passed out on the floor, once again. She did it more frequently, returning to that dark place where the nightingales sang.
A footfall: he enters the room. The sunlight illuminates his silver hair, the soft curve of his mouth, which had whispered sweet things to her,
(I love you, Hermione, my Hermione…)
lips that had woven intricate fantasies for her, all for her.
He picks up a nearly-finished painting, a single violet engulfed in darkness.
He speaks: "Symbolic, Hermione?"
She is drawn to his eyes, a magnificent shade of grey that had seen so much, yet understood so little. He puts the painting next to her, on the floor.
"Hermione…" he breathes. Light glints off of the metal in his hands, and she can barely suppress a bitter laugh. Oh, yes, she knew this was coming.
Just not this soon.
He kneels next to her, and presses the blade to her throat. She smiles, an "I wish things were different" smile.
"You couldn't turn away, Draco, could you?" she whispers. It wasn't a question; it was a fact. "Blood had to be thicker."
"The Dark Lord wants you…" he whispers. He softly pushes the blade into her throat, as if he wanted to cause her the least amount of pain possible. A dark red line follows the path of the blade. His finger traces it, almost reverently, and her breathe hitches in her throat as she recalls
(His eyes swept over her body, before he pressed her down, caressing her with his hands, sending her body into ecstasy as he made love to her for the first time)
How it used to be, before the war got out of hand.
His voice brings her back to reality. "He wants the only thing Potter has left-" here his voice cracked "-dead."
He puts more pressure on the blade. "And" he barely mouths "the only thing I ever loved."
Her hand reaches up to touch the blood at her neck.
He braces himself, and quickly slices her throat. Blood splatters onto the painting, making her violet red.
(He handed her a rose. She smiled, kissing his cheek.
"Draco" she started "Do you love me?"
He was caught off guard. "O-of course. More than the world."
She tilted her head back to receive his kiss. "Draco" she sighed. "My Dragon.")
He watches the life fall from her eyes. "My Hermione" he whispers. His hand trembles as he touches her face softly. She looks at him, and with her last breath, gasps "My…my Dragon…"
She closes her eyes… and hears birds singing… nightingales.