Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Another chapter, another non-fundable dollar. Yay for invisible piggy-bank!

Chapter Eleven:

Sometimes the past can catch up to you. Things you would rather not remember. Things you overlooked. Things you regret.

Draco Malfoy had never really thought of these things until recently, around the time his wife started to act out of ordinary, nothing like her usual self. It made him wonder, had the past finally caught up to the present? The upcoming war had him exhausted; the House Elves had all seemed to be disappearing lately, so there wasn't a single presence besides himself in the Manor, aside from his ancestor's portraits. Protective charms around the Manor were stronger then ever, only if you were a Malfoy or had specific invitation could you enter its grounds – even the Dark Lord would have trouble penetrating them.

Through all the loss sleep and effort he was putting into the battle, to make things right again, he still missed her.

She'd sustain him.

Every time had had raised his hand, or said something cruel, she would smile at him, as if to say: "I forgive you."

If only he could forgive himself. Now the only thing he could do for her is make a world where she could be happy. A world where they could be happy together. It was his fault after all, he's the one that made her this way, he's the reason she changed. He wanted to help build a place where they could be happy, undisturbed by anything that could hurt her. And to do that, he would do anything - kill anyone that got in his way to give her the perfect world only she deserved.

--

He had come home early that day, he wanted to surprise her. She used to always pester him about spending too much time at the office, lately it seemed she had given up on this pursuit and left him alone. Like she stopped caring. He finished all his papers and hadn't any other work that needed finishing that day, so why not go home and spend some time with her? They hadn't really talked in a while, and to be quite honest – it bugged him.

He heard a noise coming from the east wing of the Manor; a small smile curved his lips as he walked in its direction, he was very careful to be quiet. He loved the look on her face when he surprised her; she'd get all flustered and smile. He adored her smile. His thrill was mellowed when he realized it wasn't Hermione. Just a House Elf.

Her House Elf, in fact. What was its name again? Molly… Polly? "Hey, you!" he called; the Elf stopped in its tracks and looked at him with fearful eyes. "Where's Hermione?"

"M-Master!" the creature stuttered, a little louder than he thought necessary. "C-Can Millie get you anything, sir? A drink or refreshment? M-Maybe if you wait in the parlour, Millie can bring you –"

By its tone he could tell something was amiss, he held up his hand to indicate silence.

"Where – is - Hermione?" he asked carefully. "That's an order." he added.

"M-Mistress is…" the Elf stated breathlessly. "Mistress is…"

Then he noticed it, the stammering Elf was standing in front of a door. Watching it. Guarding it. "Is she… in there?" he asked more to himself than anyone else. He swallowed hard as he came to a sudden realisation. "Is she in there with… someone?" The idea of Hermione with another man sickened him. Before the House Elf could say anything, its' eyes wide in alarm, he pushed past it and opened the door to the room. The library. He observed it, a form leaning casually against the shelves, waiting for him. "Weasley!" Draco spat, but it wasn't the Weasley he recognised, just the trait of ginger hair. This blood-traitor appeared older than himself, more butch than his wife's former boyfriend could ever be.

"Yeah…" said the eldest Weasley offspring, his wand in his hand. "I'm William encase you didn't know, Bill to friends, so you wont need to worry about that since this is obviously not a social visit. But I, of course, know you all too well, Draco Malfoy." He walked a few paces towards him then stopped, examining him carefully.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Draco inquired bitterly, also retrieving his wand from his work-robes pocket. "How did you get in?"

He paid him no heed but continued as if Draco never spoke. "You helped kill my father, you see. And I'm pretty sure you were responsible for the death of two of my younger brothers as well, and not to mention you stole Hermione from Ron. Do you have some kind of grudge against my family, Malfoy? Do we have something you want?"

"You and your unfortunate family have something I don't? Now that's a laugh," Draco stated, mimicking the unwanted visitor in pointing their wands towards each other. "Are you here to gloat?"

The Weasley shrugged. "Not really," he said carelessly, "to be perfectly honest I wasn't planning on running into you."

"Well, consider it a bonus then." Draco lashed forward and flicked his wand. "Ledo inflictum!" An invisible force threw Bill backwards into the bookshelf; it knocked over the scrolls and manuscripts that had been in his family for generations flew out onto the floor. Draco picked up the one closest to his feet. "'Dark Charms and Cures'?" he inquired with amusement. "You came all this way to look at a bunch of old books?"

"No," Bill grunted, stretching his back before reappointing his wand. "This is just one room you've found me in, Malfoy. I've been looking all over this mansion, it's very…" he trailed off, "lonely."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What exactly is it you're looking for?"

The Weasley smiled, the impact had left him a small cut on his forehead, the blood dripped down slowly. "Something for a girl," he answered. "She deserves to be free, wouldn't you say so?"

He laughed, a cold, sheering sound. "Hermione? You can't be serious!"

His opposer dived for his wand that laid amongst the rubble of wood and parchment. "Prosterno!" Draco felt his knees give way, the pressure was unbearable as he smashed against the floor. He tasted blood. The opportunity had Bill regain his stepping as he walked towards Draco with his wand aimed cautiously. He could feel the spell wearing off; he rolled to the side away from his shot-range, he reclaimed his wand and sprung to his feet. His head spun from the previous impact. Once again, each man had his wand pointed threateningly.

"What has my wife got to do with any of this?" Draco snapped, no longer amused.

Bill dipped his head in a mocking bow, not breaking eye contact. "Everything."

Draco scowled. "What do you want with her? You got your little brat of a sister back didn't you?"

"Yes I did," he said with a pleasant smile, "with interest." he added, a small chuckled followed his private joke.

Another roaring light was sent across the room – Weasley jumped out of its path, it hit another bookcase, sending it ablaze with black flames and smoke. A small groan echoed through his head, more family heirlooms ruined… "So what did you do to her Malfoy?" Bill asked quietly. "A potion? Possession? Imperius Curse, maybe?"

"What are you suggesting?" Draco growled, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Did you slip a bit in her drink every night?" he muttered, his voice dangerously low. "Is that how you made her stay with you? Did you beat her? Blackmail her?" Weasley paused, "threaten her?"

"What do you know?" he said coldly. "I thought your lot hated her. Or did you secretly love her?"

"Of course," Bill stated lightly. "She's like a sister to me."

"And she still is?" Draco demanded. "After all the pain she's caused you and your kind? She's tortured and killed as many of you as we could get our hands on!"

"That's the difference between us, Malfoy. We can forgive the ones we care about."

Draco gritted his teeth. "Crucio!" Weasley groaned, after a few moments the curse broke away, leaving him panting on the marble floorboards. "Hermione and myself differ when it comes to torture," Draco said darkly. "She likes it to last, prefers it to be slow, gets to know her victim until they are no longer able to support their own head. Me, I like it done as quickly and excruciating painful as possible."

He bent down and plucked his wand from his hand. Then waited.

Waited for him to recover his strength to sit up and face his outcome. Minutes passed until he could stand without wobbling. "Do you really think you can force her to love you, Malfoy?" the Weasley whispered, his hands held up in surrender. "Do you really think you can hold it against her once you kill all the people she really does love? One day she's bound to snap, and when that day comes, you'll lose her forever."

He didn't like what he was hearing. "Shut up! Hermione loves me! She has for ten years now! What would you know?"

This man stood in his way of making her the perfect world – he's the kind that could cause her to remember what it was like before him, that she was happy before him. To have this insignificant being look at him with pity was something he could never understand. Bill gave him a sad look. "She'll never truly love you."

He lost his temper. "Advada Kedavra!" One flashing green light and Bill Weasley dropped, dead; he was at peace. "I'll send you home," he muttered to the body on the ground. "For her." He left the library; the House Elf was still curled up in a ball outside the room, shaking. "You," he said piercingly to it. "Put that carcass near the last whereabouts of the Weasleys' house, then come back here for punishment. You let him in and helped him, didn't you?"

Millie whimpered but did as she was bidden.

--

Draco had lost his temper and hurt her that day – now he knew she wouldn't come back. He'd lost her. The Weasley had been right. That day she snapped. At the back of his mind he knew it was bound to happen, but that only made him fight all the harder to keep her. After all, how long could a person like her last?

It was his fault she changed.

--

Once Hermione was forced into marriage, weeks past were she wouldn't stop crying. Wouldn't sleep. Wouldn't eat. Wouldn't speak. Wouldn't look at him. Fellow Death Eaters suggested many things: love potions, curses, spells, mind control. Draco said that he would take them into thought – but he could never do it, not to her. Finally, one day, the Dark Lord knew of Hermione's brilliance and knowledge of Harry Potter, he ordered that he'd see her.

Draco could not object.

By now Hermione was too weak to object too. Blaise and himself had her weight supported between them on their way to the Dark Lord, the only thing she could comprehend was the muttering of his names. "Ron…" she whimpered. "Ron…" her breath was deep, her eyes rolled under her eyelids. "Help… help me."

"We have bought her, my Lord," Blaise said with beaming triumph. "We've brought you the mudblood."

"Good," came a cold tone. "Bring her forward."

From the darkness emerged Lord Voldemort, gesturing to a seat in the middle of the room. Draco's eyes widened in dismay. Blaise pushed Hermione forward; she stumbled and landed on her knees in front of him. The Dark Lord circled her like a predator would its prey. He leaned close to her ear at let out a low hiss. "Torture," it sounded like, with a swirl of his clock his whispered. "Kill," with his wand he lifted her off her feet, she hovered limply for a moment then was placed into the chair. "Serve."

For days she was tortured into believing what they believe – a good world. A pure world.

A fresh start. Anguished in flesh until she believed she loved him, believed that hurting people was pleasurable, believed what they believed. The next morning he almost didn't recognise her, she was smiling again. "Draco," she said lovingly, awaiting him at the breakfast table. "Come sit down with me. What time are you coming home today?"

His brow creased. "Same time as always." he answered. "Why?"

"No reason," she grinned, pouring him a glass of juice and handing him his paper. "I was just hoping maybe we could spend some time together."

Draco blinked. "I suppose I can try to get out early."

"Great, then," Hermione said slyly. "Maybe we could get working on the heir, huh?" she winked at him. He dropped his goblet, staring at her as she snapped at the nearest House Elf to clean the mess immediately. Draco knew all too well that he wanted her to adore him, but this was not how he wanted to come by it.

--

It was his fault. He wasn't strong enough to protect her.

It was his fault.

If any of you are wondering what Bill meant as to "with interest" he means he got Ginny and Hermione as well! This was in Draco's point of veiw; he doesn't seem so evil now, does he? Am I forgiven? Well, I hope so. I don't really want fellow Malfoy-likers to be horribly mad at me, hence this very-forgivable chapter. Heehee...

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Hazel-Buttafly