chap 3
Draco wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew couldn't stay in the hospital with 2/3rd of the golden trio. He may have loved Hermione and gotten over his jealousy for Potter and his unfounded animosity for the weasel which was really just mild dislike now, but that did not mean he wanted to hang out with them. He wasn't even sure he really liked Potter and he knew he didn't like the red headed git.
He landed in a Muggle pub that he had used to frequent in his post war youth, in the hopes of staying out of the Prophet and while still being able to get thoroughly pissed. It was during those days that he had found a love for a drink called a Jager bomb.
Having ordered and downed a one within a minute of taking a seat at the bar, Draco's thoughts were able to take a somewhat darker turn. He had dreaded the coming of this day for five years. He had waited every day wondering if that day was the day his house-elf would come to him and inform him that Hermione, the only girl he had ever loved was dead.
He knew would blame himself, hell he did blame himself. He hadn't fought her on leaving Blaise, even though he asked her every time he had found her beaten and broken. Her answer was always the same and Draco knew that would never change, but it did not stop him from blaming himself for not doing more to prevent it. The only thing Draco could figure that was holding her to Blaise after years of abuse was something he had on her. He had racked his brain many times to try and figure out what Blaise could possibly know about miss goody two shoes (yes he loved her, but that didn't make him blind to the fact that Hermione was a goody two shoes) that she wouldn't want the rest of the Wizarding world to know. He had every single time, come up with nothing.
Blaise and Hermione's courtship had been fast. He hadn't even know Blaise was seeing her till the day he found them both in the flat he and the dark skinned man shared. That was the very day they had told him they were getting married. It had shocked and saddened Draco to stand as best man at their wedding. He had felt like a part of his heart was slowly dying as he watched her in a beautiful white gown turn loving eyes on Blaise and kiss him, sealing their bond.
He stood abruptly, causing the stool he had been occupying to fall to the floor with a loud clatter. The few patrons in the bar turned to see who had made the noise but Draco paid them no never mind. He knew what he had to do. He threw some Muggle money on the bar and strode out, head held high, determined for the first time in a long time, to set things right.
Apparating to his flat by way of a dark empty alley Draco turned and promptly floo'ed to the Zabini house. If it turned out that, no one was home, well that would be fine, he could snoop. Maybe he would get lucky and find what Blaise Zabini, Slytherin whore, had on the Gryffindor Princess. If Blaise was there, well, Draco had other plans.
Stepping out of the fireplace, Draco saw Blaise sitting on a chair, reading. As if his wife hadn't just hours ago been laying on the floor broken and bloody near death. Draco's vision started it shift as the room around him turned red. He was angrier than he had ever been. So that was how this was going to go he thought.
"Draco, dear friend, what brings you to my house at this late hour?" Blaise said, standing to greet him in a friendly tone. As if nothing were wrong at the Zabini house, when in fact many things were very wrong.
"Sorry to call so late Blaise, but," Draco was cut off by Blaise holding a hand up to stop his words.
"Dear Merlin Draco, whatever is wrong?" There was real concern in his voice, "You look like hell. Is that...BLOOD on your robes?" Blaise asked, getting a good look at the state of dishevel he was in. Draco looked down at his light gray robes and noticed for the first time that not only was he still in his work robes, but he had blood on them. There in the center of his robes was a small pool of Hermione's dried blood. It only served to encourage him to do what he had gone there to do.
"Yes it is," he said flatly.
"Who's is it? Its surely not yours or Narcissa's, is it?" he sounded truly worried. It amazed Draco that Blaise could be concerned about the wellbeing of a friend's mother but willingly cause harm and suffering to the woman, he had said he loved. Draco looked into the face of his onetime best friend and rage flared behind his eyes, causing Blaise to take a step back.
"Hermione's," was all Draco said. The mask of worry slipped from Blaise's face and split into a grin.
"I wondered where the mud-blood had run off to." Blaise said, walking over to the bar at the other end of the room. Draco was shocked to the core at Blaise's reaction; he stood rooted to the spot, unable to will his body to move. Blind rage coursed through his body.
"I had half expected to find her dead on my floor. Pity"
"Why?" Draco finally said, having found some part of his voice, though really it sounded more like a bullfrog than his actual voice.
"Why what?" Blaise asked, his voice holding a hint of laughter. "Why did I marry a mud-blood? Why did I put my hands on her? Why would I willingly touch someone so far beneath me? Or perhaps you want to know why Hermione? Why I had decided to take something so meek, so vile into my house and treat her as she was meant to be treat. Dear Draco, did your father teach you nothing, mud-bloods don't deserve to be near us, they don't deserve to live, to share our magic, they are scum on the bottom of my shoes." Blaise said taking a drink of some amber liquid.
Draco stuffed his hands in his pocket and looked down at his feet, silently kicking at a spot on the floor. He wanted Blaise to think him weak. To see him not as the threat he truly was, because even though Draco hand his head down and stood in a position of submission, his hand was firmly wrapped around his wand. His eyes surveying the room, though downcast eyes and his ears open as wide as they could for the sounds all around him.
"I'll tell you why Draco, because of YOU!" Blaise shouts, his composure slipping. At the admission, Draco looked up, shocked into speech.
"Me?" he asks in disbelief. This man was his best mate.
"That's right, you. Oh, I will not deny that I enjoyed hearing her cry out in pain, or seeing her bloody on the floor, I would be lying if I did. In fact," he said lowering his voice, "my favorite part was watching her bleed." The look in his eyes scared Draco, it was manic, and deranged and for the first time, he recognized Blaise for what he was, a mad man. "I loved knowing that her pain was because of you. Foolish little mud-blood thought she was saving your life by staying with me."
"What do you mean; she thought she was saving my life? Why did you marry her if you hate her so much?"
"Because Draco, it meant you couldn't have her!" His eyes glinted with craziness.
"Me? Have her?" Draco laughed. He was no fool, he never for a second believed he had a chance with Hermione.
"Did you honestly think that I didn't know about your feelings for the golden trios mud-blood? You're not that good of an actor Draco; you've been in love with her since 3rd year. You may have fooled everyone else, but not me."
"But why Blaise? Why would you go out of your way to hurt me and the girl you knew I loved? You were my best mate!" Blaise laughed a wicked dark laugh that caused the hair on the back of Draco's arms to prickle.
"We are not friends, Draco, don't be so deluded. We stopped be friends when you murdered Pansy"
"Pansy died in the war Blaise, I didn't kill her!" Draco's body was showing signs of defeat, knowing that it truly was his fault that Hermione was suffering this fate. He wanted so badly to collapse in a heap of raw emotions and let them take over his body, but the image of Hermione's broken body stopped him. He would fix what he had messed up. He would see to it that Hermione never hurt like that again. He moved forward ever so slightly, not wanting to spook Blaise, but it was to no avail.
"RISTRICTIS" Blaise yelled, pointing his wand at Draco. Draco found himself locked against the wall. His head and hands were free though the hands were stuck in his robes. Blaise had no reason to believe that Draco was armed. That was his error. Thin white strands held Draco captive to the wall; he looked as though he had been stuck there by a spider.
"Pansy died Draco because you turned traitor and spy. All because you loved that mud-blood bitch. She didn't love you Draco, not then anyway." Blaise smiled, "That changed though, didn't it? All because you saved her precious Harry Potter's life. It's your fault that the love of my life is dead. I had planned to kill you, but really, seeing you suffer was so much better. Knowing that the one you wanted more than anything, couldn't be yours, ever, was the most satisfying reward I could have ever hope to gain. However, torturing her was, oh so much more fun than I had expected. Now, however, you are aware of my little show, so I think I have to kill you both. It will be so much fun to watch the light die from your eyes. And the things I have planned for that little bitch," Blaise sighed, his eyes far away as if seeing something he thought beautiful, "will make you turn in your soon to be grave." Blaise laughed, "To think, she actually thought she was saving your life."
The cogs in Draco's brain clicked into overdrive at Blaise's admission, Hermione had believed that he would be killed if she didn't stay with Blaise. That was why she wouldn't listen to reason when ever Draco tried to get her to leave. She loved him, not Blaise as she had lead everyone to believe. Draco had something to fight for, he wasn't just fighting to save Hermione from the terror she had lived for the last five years, he was fighting for love. Because he loved her more than life, itself and she loved him enough to want to save his life. He would win, because unlike Blaise, he had someone to fight for.
With his hand firmly wrapped around his wand, hidden from view in his pocket, Draco soundlessly released himself from the bindings, the spell slicing through the white sticky strings, and landed firmly on his feet.
"It's not my fault Pansy chose the wrong side to be on, I didn't kill her Blaise, but I will kill you." He said raising his wand.
"Sectemsempra," Blaise yelled and Draco, a second faster, placed a shield charm around him. The spell bounced off the shield and hit the fireplace, creating a giant crack from floor to ceiling.
The spells flew, causing destruction in their wake; however, Draco and Blaise remained untouched. The two had known each other too long and knew very well what the other was planning. They were equally matched in almost every way. The energy used to duel with each other was starting to wear them down; the spells lacked the potencies they typically held. As evenly matched as they were, Draco still had the upper hand, he had a knowledge of Muggle fighting that Blaise did not. He had once heard Ron tell Harry to throw his wand away and punch Draco on the nose, if the wand did not do anything, in preparation for a duel that he had tricked the pair into. In that moment, Draco felt that for the first time ever Ron had some sound advice.
Dropping his wand, Draco apparated to just behind Blaise, Blaise had not been expecting it and when he felt Draco's hands on his face, he froze, eyes wide in shock. Grabbing the dark man's head Draco twisted it to the left as hard as he could. Hearing the sickening crack of bones breaking, Draco's face showed a triumphant smile as he watched the eyes of his onetime best friend go dim. Draco released his grip and watched as the lifeless body of Blaise Zabini fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.
The weight of everything that had happened in the last few days hit him like a blugger to the gut, and he fell to the floor and sobbed. He cried for Hermione as her life hung in the balance. He cried for the man he had once considered a brother. He cried for the betrayals he had suffered at the hand of that man. He cried for Pansy and the friends he had lost in the war, on both sides. But mostly he cried because he had just killed someone. Even in the war, he had managed to keep his hands clean, but now, now, he was no better than his father was. Perhaps he was even worse; he had used his bare hands to take a life. He had felt the life leave Blaise as his neck snapped. He had even been happy. He was definitely worse than his father was. Draco cried for a long time, exhaustion setting in and taking over.
When he woke, his head hurt. It took him a few minutes to remember what had happened, the images of Blaise's dead body crashed down upon him and he felt sick. Leaning over the side of the couch, Draco puked. When he sat up from being sick, he was able to recognize that he had somehow come to lay on a fluffy green couch, a couch not belonging to either him or the Zabini's that he was aware of. The couch sat in the middle of what had been the completely destroyed drawing room. The room now however, looked immaculate; no one would have ever known there had been a duel. Draco wondered, briefly if he had imagined killing his best friend.
Standing from the couch he looked around the room, not seeing any sign of a dead body, Draco had to admit he was confused. A little pop behind him alerted him to a new presence.
"Master is awake at last," said the little elf he knew too well. Turning in his spot he saw his and Hermione's elf standing in the doorway. "Pixie is worrying the whole time you is asleep, sir," she squeaked, moving into the room. "Pixie is cleaning up the mess you is making while keeping your promise to Pixie."
"Pixies where is...Have you seen Blaise?" he asked, in what he had hoped was an off handed way. The elf grinned wickedly at his question. Draco took a step back from his elf. He had never in all his years seen an elf look dangerous but Pixie looked down right evil at that moment.
"I is seeing him sir, and I is making sure no one else is ever seeing him again." Draco looked at the elf in shock, her tone was devious, she had done something to Zabini's body. Draco was quite sure he did not want to know what. "Don't you worry about him Master, go see mistress. Pixie is wanting to know how she is." The elf pushed Draco toward the Floo. "Take a shower, change and go see her." Perhaps he was giving the elf a little too much freedom, most elves would not dare touch their masters the way that pixie just had. Though in all honesty, it was a fleeting thought, Draco really did like the elf.
Draco stepped into the floo vowing to by the elf a new wardrobe. He really did owe her a lot.