It's about to get real fucked up from here on out. Expect dark themes, non-con from Tom Riddle, hate/angry sex smut for Dramione, and torture. Turn back if you can't handle these things. The only warnings I will give are the words "trigger warning" and a generic theme at the top of each chapter. I do not want to spoil things for anyone so I won't be detailed.
There will be epic dragon battles. Epic dragon scenes. Dragons ripping roofs off of buildings. Dragons breathing elements. Dragons with multiple heads. Dragons.
I would definitely not write a dragon story that was any less epic than Eragon ^.^
TRIGGER WARNING: mild gore
Counting the Stars
Chapter Eighteen
Auron's Theme - FFX, Riku - Moises Nieto
"I had thought that 150,000 galleons would be enough to help you understand that the Mudblood is mine."
Like dark smoke, the hiss of Draco's voice drifted out of his mouth and into the room. His steps were slow as he crossed the distance between him and Carrow. His wand remained trained forward.
Hermione's heart pounded a steady drumbeat, marching to the tune of her lingering fear. She had never seen Draco Malfoy this angry, not in their entire time at Hogwarts. The truth about him was now crystal clear.
He was no coward.
Carrow placed a hand on the wall and staggered to his feet. His gaze moved to his right, to where his wand was lying.
Not happening.
Hermione pushed back the exhaustion in her bones and the pain in her muscles and rushed forward to snatch it up. She clutched it with both hands as she limped to stand beside Draco.
"I had thought we'd come to a mutually understood business agreement, Amycus," Draco said, wand still held aloft. Hermione hardly recognized the sound of his voice, hardly recognized the darkness and the baritone. The person that she had seen in Lucius' memory with the trembling hand and the desperate eyes was not here. "Imagine my horror when I get to Buckingham and find out from the Dark Lord himself that not only has he discovered my secret, but that you betrayed me as well. Which would be a lot less surprising if you hadn't accepted the money. You have a fortune of your own. Why would you need to go the extra mile to accept the galleons when you were going to tell the Dark Lord the truth anyway?"
Carrow's upper lip curled. "Accepting the money bought you time. Not silence."
Draco let out an incredulous laugh. "And what, you forgot to mention that it would take another 150,000 galleons to buy me another month?"
"I never had any intention of staying silent forever," Carrow said, and then he narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "My only desire was to feel how tight her pretty little cunt is around my -"
"You'll watch your fucking mouth," Draco snarled, cutting him off by re-brandishing his wand. "Or I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to you." Another mirthless laugh. "Though, I'm considering doing it anyway."
Hermione glowered at Carrow and then, with purpose, she snapped his wand in half. It was worth it to watch the light leave his eyes when she dropped the two halves of it to the ground as though it were little more than discarded rubbish. If she was going to have to live forever with the memory of his hands on her flesh, then he was going to have to lose his wand.
"I paid you for your permanent silence, Carrow," Draco said. "That was the agreement."
"I lied," Carrow said through visibly clenched teeth.
Hermione could feel the fury coming off of Draco's body in waves. She glanced up at him, studying the angry planes of his face, the cut of his sharp jawline, and the way a stray lock of hair was falling forward into his eyes.
Even enraged, he looked like an aristocratic painting. Cold from afar and cruel up close.
"Clearly," Draco said, tilting his head to the side. "Because I come home to find you on the stairs with my witch, rutting against her like a squalid animal, with no regard for the agreement that was made!"
Carrow gave him a vicious smile. "Perhaps you should have suggested an Unbreakable Vow, you foolish boy."
Hermione felt her heart skip a beat. "My witch." It was the second time he'd said it.
What did it mean?
She gazed up at Draco again. The look in his eyes was one that she'd seen before. It was the flash before destruction. The fire that flickered before his temper snapped.
"Perhaps," he hissed, his brows lowering. "Or perhaps I teach you a lesson about touching what is mine! Crucio!"
Hermione's eyes widened.
Carrow fell to the floor in a screaming, shuddering heap. He thrashed about the longer Draco held the curse, sweat rolling down his face and neck as the agony slammed into his body, relentless. By the way Draco stood, shoulders drawn back and chin tilted up, Hermione could see.
He meant it.
When Draco finally lifted his wand, Carrow began to laugh. He let out high-pitched, maniacal laughter that seemed disjointed. Like his mind had disconnected from his body after only one casting.
"Ohh, there's no honor amongst Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy!" Carrow shouted with a cadence, glaring back and forth between Draco and Hermione. "150,000 galleons was enough to help me understand that I wanted what belonged to you. 150,000 galleons was what it took to shed light on your lack of wisdom. I didn't need the money. I just wanted what was yours! I've always wanted what was yours!"
Draco's wand lowered, and Hermione grimaced.
Carrow had him.
He grinned, still lying on the floor and trembling. There was blood between his teeth.
"Sixteen years old, and the Dark Lord was already stark raving mad over what you could do with that little mind of yours. There's no Occlumens or Legilimens on this planet that's more powerful than him, but you? You come damn close." He laughed again and sat up. "I've been with him since the beginning. Since before you were born, you fucking ponce. And somehow, you managed to work your way to his side, where he gives you the freedom to betray him with her."
Hermione glared down at Carrow as his attention fell upon her. His grin widened and he stood up, swaying slightly on his feet.
"My only regret is that I didn't get the chance to stick my cock in her. I would have liked to watch her bleed. There's still time, Draco. Care to share?"
Hermione knew what was going to happen, but she wasn't fast enough to stop it. He had a poor temper.
She felt something shifting in the air. She saw Draco go rigid, his facial expression whiting out.
He dropped his wand and lunged.
Hermione watched in shock as Draco slammed Carrow up against the wall, one hand gripping the front of his robes and the other rearing back to strike. When Carrow surprised by catching Draco's fist in his own hand, Hermione's hands flew to cover her mouth. They struggled back and forth for a moment, and then Draco managed to wrench himself away. He landed a blow on Carrow's face with a sickening crunch, and Hermione saw blood spurting from his nostrils.
Draco came towards him again, but Carrow was ready. He aimed a powerful front kick right for him, and the sole of his foot landed square in the center of Draco's gut. Draco's arms flew out at his sides as he hit the wall. With a grunt of pain and a rushed exhalation of breath, he sank to his knees.
Right as he hit the ground, Carrow was there. He grabbed the sides of Draco's head with both hands and slammed it downward onto his kneecap. Draco groaned and fell to the side. Carrow fell upon him like rain from the sky. He straddled his hips and pinned him to the ground by the throat.
Hermione could feel the seconds ticking by as though they were hours. Draco was kicking his legs, trying to buck Carrow off of him. His fingers clawed at Carrow's hands. Carrow just laughed and laughed and laughed.
She didn't know what to do. She was frozen with panic. She'd thought - she'd been so sure that Draco was the powerful one. Draco was supposed to -
"After you take your last breath?" Carrow said, leaning down and pressing so hard on Draco's trachea that Hermione saw his eyes bulging and his face reddening. "I'll fuck her right next to your corpse."
Draco cast her a desperate, sidelong glance. In her mind, she felt the ice again, mingling with shards of panic.
He was terrified.
The dagger, he thought to her. Get the dagger!
Hermione whirled around in a flurry of skirts and curls, dashing for her bed and ripping away the pillow. She snatched up the dagger and ran back over.
Draco didn't have time. He was going to die. His kicks were getting weaker. She could see his hands starting to fall to the floor by his head. His eyelids were fluttering. He was going to die.
Granger . . . Granger . . . I'm sorry I couldn't . . .
It trailed off.
He was dying.
Hermione raised the dagger, and plunged it into the center of the back of Carrow's neck.
Blood spurted forth, spraying Draco's face with hot, crimson ichor. Carrow made a strangled series of gurgling noises. He began to convulse in his own terror, his hands pawing futilely at the front of his throat.
The moment he fell to the side, Draco scrambled backward until his back hit the wall, his chest heaving and mouth gasping for air. He tangled his bloody fingers in his red-stained hair and coughed repeatedly.
What did I just do? Hermione thought, her hands trembling. What did I just do?!
Not again!
A violent panic seized her body. She darted forward and, before Draco could react, she fell to her knees and yanked the hilt. The dagger slid out of Carrow's body with a wet squelching noise. Blood showered her body from the force, warm against her face and her bare torso where her dress was still torn open. She could taste metal in her mouth.
"Granger," Draco said, his voice raw. He looked terrifying, like someone had painted him in blood. "Drop the knife."
Hermione couldn't hear him. She stumbled to her feet, staring at the dagger in her hands. Staring at the blood that dripped to the carpet. She felt it soaking her face, neck, arms, and legs.
"What did I do?! What did I do to him, Malfoy?!"she screamed, looking at him with an expression of pure horror.
On the floor, Carrow's eyes were wide open. He was still twitching, gentle quivers of fading muscles wracking his body. His blood had already begun to pool beneath him. A rattling noise escaped his torn throat as life left his body.
The life that Hermione had stolen.
For Draco.
"Granger, just drop the dagger, all right?" Draco got to his feet and took a step closer. He held one hand out to her. There was a cautious expression in his eyes. "Just drop the dagger, and I'll take care of everything."
Her mind was shorting out, like a worn electrical wire. She was close to hyperventilating. "Of course you'll take care of everything. You're a murderer."
"Come now," Draco said, his voice gentler. "Go ahead and drop the dagger, all right? Everything is -"
"Everything is not fine!" she shrieked, her throat aching from the volume. She tightened her hold on the hilt. She knew she looked like she'd gone mad. "You killed Neville! You killed him!"
"How did you . . . ?" He looked confused. "Granger, I didn't -"
"You killed him," she said, on the verge of tears as she paced back and forth. "You killed him and now you've made me just like you. Because of you, I'm a murderer."
A flash of memory in her mind. Ireland, after Wicklow. A man with a bloody head wound. A broken vase.
Cillian O'Connell.
I killed him, too.
"No," Hermione whispered, holding her bloody hands to the sides of her head as she shook it back and forth. She did not drop the dagger. "No, no, no, no."
"I didn't kill Longbottom, all right?" Draco said, and she saw him step over Carrow's lifeless form.
Hermione leapt back, pointing the dagger at him. She couldn't make out his face through the sheen of her tears. "Stay away from me! You brought me here! You turned me into this . . . This person."
"I didn't turn you into anything," he said. His tone was soft, but there was conviction in his eyes. "Everything is all right. He was a Dark wizard. A bad man."
"No!" she screamed, backing up further. Her knees knocked together as the emotion and nausea rolled together inside of her body. "Just because someone is bad . . . Doesn't mean we get to decide who lives or dies! You're the one who said that in the clearing, Malfoy! You're the one who said that we don't get to decide!"
His gaze hardened and he stopped advancing on her. "I said I don't get to decide whether you live or die. But Carrow? I would have killed him if you hadn't."
Hermione's panic burst in her chest. "And that's why I hate you! You're a horrid, vile, evil man!"
She screamed and fell to her knees, sucking in wheezing breaths. She couldn't think clearly. All she could see in front of her mind's eyes were the things she knew to be certain about him.
He'd let the Death Eaters in.
He'd taken the Mark.
He'd fought on the Dark Lord's side.
He'd paid a man 150,000 galleons to keep her presence a secret.
He had a shelf full of poisons that he'd used on an unknown number of people.
He'd crucioed Neville.
She inhaled her panic and her terror and her despair and when she exhaled, it was on a gut-wrenching sob.
"You killed him," she sobbed. "You killed everyone. You killed them all."
Draco paused and then he said, "Granger, you're not . . . Yourself right now. We can talk about everything, I promise. But first, I need you to drop the dagger."
On her knees, Hermione rocked her upper body back and forth, one arm holding the bloody dagger out and the other one wrapped around her aching stomach. Tears streamed down her face like a dam had been broken. She was crying for too many things to count. Her emotions were tangled in a thick, tight mass inside of herself.
"And now you're gonna kill me," she whispered before she began to sob anew. "I'm such a fool. I'm such a bloody, sodding fool."
She never should have come to the Malfoy Manor. She never should have allowed herself to be so helpless that she accepted an unholy sanctuary from a demon.
"Granger!" he suddenly barked. "I am not gonna kill you!"
"Teensy's dead . . . Teensy's dead . . ."
"Teensy is not dead, you silly bint."
And then he was on one knee before her, pulling his robes up to allow himself room to do so in his black denim trousers. He grabbed her wrist and she shrieked, trying to pull it back. He held tight, however, and used his other hand to wrestle the dagger out of her hand. He tossed it to the side and then she felt his hand cupping the back of her head. It steadied her in the storm of her panic, even if he was the one she was panicking over.
Draco used his thumb to tilt her face upward.
"Look at me. Look at me." He raised his voice as his eyes searched her tear-filled ones. "Teensy and Longbottom are not dead. Do you understand what I'm saying to you? The House Elves were summoned to Buckingham for questioning after Carrow's accusations."
Hermione took several gasping breaths. "And Neville?"
"I refused to do it. I told him he could kill me first. I was bluffing, but the Dark Lord rose to it. He sent Longbottom back to the cells." He let go of her wrist, but not her face. He looked extremely troubled for a second. "I'm not gonna kill you."
Hermione gazed up into his blood-smeared face. He was a murderer and this was all his fault, but damn if she didn't want to fall into his arms.
"He knows, Malfoy," she whispered, a tear rolling unchecked down her cheek. "The Dark Lord knows and he's gonna take me. He's going to -" She started to sob again. "- he's going to take me away and kill me."
He opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by a voice on the stairs.
"It looks like you've finally gone too far, son. You've finally stepped out of line and now, the hounds are coming." Lucius came into view, his cane thunking on the floor as he approached. The smirk was in his eyes as he sighed in a self-satisfactory manner. "The Dark Lord knows. He comes at first light to collect you both. What will you and your pet do now?"
Draco let go of Hermione and stood. Hermione whirled around on the floor to face his father, accidentally sitting on the toes of Draco's shoes. His legs were like a wall against her back.
Lucius took in the sight of first his son covered in blood, then Hermione spattered with the same. The shock on his face registered in stages of confusion, intrigue, and then alarm. It was perhaps the only thing she did not regret about killing Carrow.
And then his gaze moved to his right, to look behind them, and it all melted away. When he looked at them again, his disposition was as cold and vicious as a snowstorm.
"What did you do?"