Chapter 1-'Blond Bastard'

Hogwarts was little more than a lifeless hulk. Its blackened windows staring out across a desolate landscape like long blind eyes. There was nothing of the warmth he had felt when he had first arrived here as a naïve eleven year old. All that seemed like a life time ago. He could barely recognise that child as part of the brutal cur he had become.

"Spread out and stay alert," he barked in the tone of command that had become his custom before adding, "If the rebel scum are here they are not to be underestimated."

He knew if she were here she would not come quietly. For all he had wronged her he had never underestimated her! He understood that, despite the propaganda surrounding those of her blood status, Granger was a powerful and resourceful witch. She could not have lasted this long if she were not, that was in part why he had insisted on leading this mission himself. He had long since ceased to need the Dark Lord's approval for his actions. His master trusted him implicitly, he had played his part as his brutal lieutenant well but today his motives were his own. Granger, he hoped, would oblige him with a much needed favour.

Draco cautiously stalked through the ruins, searching room after room of destruction and devastation. Despite the need to stay alert he couldn't fully fight the nostalgia that crept up on him as he reached the dungeons. Carefully picking his way through the rubble and shards of glass, that almost obscured the entrance to what had been Snape's potions classroom, he was startled by the pang of regret that almost choked him. His godfather was long since dust and the benches, where he had brewed potions with long dead friends, were grey with disuse. As he scanned the room he mentally recalled them all; Potter who had fallen in the forbidden forest, Weasley who had died defending Granger, Longbottom struck down by Nagini and Blaise who had been crushed as McGonagall had brought down a wall on the Dark Lord's advancing forces. He could have gone on but, as phantoms of friends and rivals alike reappeared in his mind's eye, a sudden shocking realisation descended upon him; that he and Granger were the only two left. Of the whole class of his Slytherin and Gryffindor peers he and Granger were all that remained.

"But not for long," he told the ghosts of his peers. If their intelligence was correct, by the end of the day, only one of them would remain.

Draco left the potions lab casting a swift lumos as he entered a dark corridor where an apparent collapse had blocked the light from the small slit window. There was a sudden startling susurrus as a fine sediments of dust was disturbed and scurried like panicked vermin down the receding steps. Had he dislodged it? His brain questioned, or was there something more than darkness hidden below?

Moving with cat like caution Draco advanced towards what he now sensed was a powerful magical signature. Something or someone of great power rested below. Momentarily Draco was arrested by his old sense of Slytherin self- preservation, should he move on? Inwardly Draco scoffed at his own hesitance, what did it matter? He thought dismissively.

Something from the inky depths below reflected the light of his wand. As Draco got nearer, careless now of his own safety and his curiosity peeked, he recognised the rare magical artefact. The Mirror of Erised.

He had heard tell of it. The Dark Lord had regaled them all with tales of how Potter had used it to deceive Quirrell in his first year at Hogwarts. It was said, or so his master claimed, to show each man his heart's desire. Did he have enough heart left for the mirror to read? He internally questioned. Draco knew that all beauty had leeched out of his world. There was nothing left of love or hope in his future. He only fought now because he had nothing left to loose. Careless of what it might reveal Draco looked into the Mirror of Erised and the sight brought him to his knees. He knew that he was an evil bastard, he knew that he was far beyond redemption, there was too much blood on his hands all he had expected to see reflected in that glass was what he increasingly felt he deserved-an end to it all. Yet it seemed, somewhere in his tortured soul, all hope had not been extinguished his longed for wife and child smiled back at him and Draco crumpled to his knees.

"Cruel!" he chastised the mirror as if it were sentient. Cruel, his mind screamed as he scrambled away, he knew he could never deserve her, not then and certainly not now. Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away. As he watched he saw his own self step into the frame, ruffling the platinum locks of the small boy who looked up at his looking glass self adoringly. Something inside Draco snapped.

"Die you evil Bastard," he roared as he threw a silent curse at his reflected self. Shards of glass exploded around him, showering him with crystalline dust. He blinked furiously as grit settled in his eyes. Blinded by tears he was unaware of the form that slowly encroached on him.

The 'Blond Bastard' many called him despite his pristine heritage. Hermione could hardly reconcile his reputation with that of the snivelling bully she had slapped in her third year. She had watch as if ensorcelled as he played out what appeared to be a tantrum of self-loathing before the Mirror of Erised. What had he seen to illicit such a violent reaction? She couldn't help wonder, still she could not wait to consider further. He was a powerful wizard and a peerless dualist. Her only sure hope of defeating him was to catch him unawares.

She missed her chance, it was a school girl error, she was a hardened fighter she should have known to silence her footfall. There was a sharp snap of glass and he was facing her in a fighting stance before she had chance to stiffen from her mistake.

"Granger," he sneered, "long-time no see. Let's get this over with shall we?" He asked her and without further preamble he set down his wand.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked completely aghast.

"Well I thought that was obvious," he said smirking at her, "I'm making it easy for you. Have at it Granger, I don't have all day."

He stood there now arms spread out, an easy target.

"You expect me to kill you, in cold blood?"

"Yes!" he said bluntly, "you hate me don't you-it can't be too much to ask."

Hermione looked at him astonished. He was truly asking her to kill him. Moments ago she would have done so merrily. Indeed that had been her intent but now…now he asked it of her…in cold blood, she wasn't sure she could.

"Why?"

"For pity's sake Granger, why do you have to ask so many questions?" he replied tetchily. Draco suddenly wondered if he had miscalculated. He had felt sure she would jump at the chance. Had he misjudged her? Perhaps she needed a little encouragement. "Come on Granger, you know you want to. You know the spell, say it, where is that Gryffindor courage."

She raised her wand, finally, Draco silently intoned, but she didn't move.

"Not unless you tell me why," she insisted

"Are you serious?" He asked, it was now Draco's turn to be incredulous, "just get on with it Granger we are on a limited time scale here, I'm not the only Death Eater in these ruins."

She stared at him unresponsive.

"Alright," he caved, "I've just had enough, I want out okay?"

"Then I suggest you turn your wand on yourself," she replied her expression suddenly glacial, "or do you lack the juts?"

He scoffed, "oh believe me Granger when I tell you I do not but you see there is the slight issue of my mother-he will kill her if I die by my own hand."

She was about to challenge him, point out the impact his death would have on his mother but they were disturbed by the echo of approaching footsteps.

"Please," he pleaded.

Hermione raised her wand and without breaking eye contact she wordless sent a stupefy.

"Sorry Malfoy but perhaps I feel you deserve to suffer." She told his now unconscious form before turning on her heals and disapparating.

Author's note

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