She slashes forward, throwing a curse across her shoulder. A hex there, a protective here, spells leave her wand in a frantic pace.
It's madness!
And a nightmare
She doesn't know why they're still fighting. Harry's already fallen. The battle - The war - already lost. But no one wants to retreat. No one wants to see what would be the sensible thing to do.
They should escape, retreat, save the ones still alive and then redirect their moves.
But she's not in charge here. Not anymore. Harry's gone and now others make decisions for the side of the light. And their decision seems to be to sacrifice every last one of them.
'You know what's been done to girls like you?' Malfoy had hissed to her. And only then had she woken up to the fact that they might actually lose. Before him, she never even thought it possible. Now she feels naive and ignorant.
She has done her lessons in histories of wars. She knows what happens to girls on the losing side. She knows she's not any girl. She still remembers the snatcher's tongue on her ear when they were caught in the forest.
'You think dying is the worst that can happen to you?'
'You should run, before it's too late'
She hates the fact that Malfoy was right.
She's already past the point of fighting to death. They wouldn't just kill her anymore, now that their victory was certain. There were far worse things waiting for her if she got caught. So her only chance is to fight and to defend, until there's nothing left.
She stumbles a little as she nears the edge of the forest. If she just gets in there, out of the open field. Then maybe she has a chance.
Maybe someone else gets away too?
She's nearly on the treeline as something gets past her defense. It hits her straight in the gut like a bullet. And air leaves her lungs.
She falls to the forest floor, pain exploding through her.
Maybe her faith was merciful afterall. Maybe this was the end of her story. Here, on the fresh smelling moss, after a fight for the world that never fully accepted her.
"Granger." he flips her around, and she sees the high tops of the trees. And the darkening sky above.
She lifts her hand and it's covered in blood. Hot and red, dripping from her fingers. Dazed she thinks that whoever it was who bled like this must be bleeding to death.
"Fuck Granger. Why do you have to be so damn stubborn!? Couldn't you run when I asked you to."
She refocuses her vision.
He's above her on his knees. His silver eyes dark behind his Death Eater mask.
She feels his hands on her stomach, adding pressure to where the blood must be coming from. Her teeth rattle as a sudden coldness sweeps through her body.
Malfoy swears again, "Come on Granger. You had your chance to escape! You can't die on me now."
She feels how life escapes her as the blood pulses out under his hands. She lifts her own shaking hands and puts them on top of his.
This is how she goes. Under the hands of the one person who never let her forget how inferior she felt here. How much she didn't fit in. And somehow she still finds comfort in him being here now.
"Granger! The world needs you! If Voldemort rules, it's going to be hell! They're coming, just hold on for a few minutes more!"
She's not sure if she's hallucinating. If none of this is real anymore. Because his words make no sense whatsoever.
His hand is on her cheek. Her lips shake.
She can feel the trail of her own blood, his fingers leave on her.
"Granger! Do not go under!" She finds it oddly satisfying how his voice shakes as he begs her not to die.
"Draco…" She breathes out with her last strength, "B- bet you'd love the i- idea of me under your co-control." She chokes out.
She's not going to give him that! She's never going to be under anyone's control!
She's going to die and the rest of the world can go fuck itself!
"NO!" He's shouting with a whisper, "Do not fucking dare Granger!"
His hand on her cheek is soft. Out of place.
Like a caress.
She closes her eyes.
"Granger, please!"
Not so bad way to go after all. At Least as her last deed she got Draco Malfoy to beg her. At least she died at her own conditions.
Before the world goes black, she hears him swear loudly.
.
.
.
The dark cell she wakes up in, is definitely not heaven.
Hell? Probably, but not in a way she had hoped it would be. She lifts her hand to her stomach and there's no more wound. Dried blood on her clothes and a dull ache in her body. But no immediate danger of dying anymore.
"Welcome to the end of the world Granger."
She spins around.
He's sitting on the floor, leaning his head back. His sleek hair messed up, face dirty and clothes marred with blood too.
Hers, she realizes.
He tried to stop the bleeding. And now they're both here, in a prison cell somewhere.
"Why can't you ever do what you're told to?" He sounds indifferent. But she's not sure he is. "I told you death isn't what they have in store for girls like you."
Why is he even here? She can think of multiple scenarios that happened to her after the world went black. But in none it makes sense he's here with her. Seemingly a prisoner too.
"Are you proud of yourself Granger?" There's venom in his voice and she doesn't quite understand why he's angry with her. It's not like she asked him to help her there by the forest. Quite the opposite actually.
He has leaned forward, still sitting on the ground looking up at her. "You know what's wrong with you Gryffindors? You think you're so fucking extraordinary! You think that your heroism is the best kind of heroism and the rest of the world just watches by in awe. You think war is fought on the fucking battlefield where you either win or you die. You think the world is black and white and choose to ignore the shades of grey in between."
Who is he to lecture her? Who is he, a death eater, to lecture her about black and white?
"No." She tells him,"I don't give a fuck what you think Malfoy! I don't care what you did or why you're here! I just watched people I love die!" She feels the tears before they pour over, "I watched everything I fought for crumble down! I did everything I could and couldn't save any of them!"
The words pour out of her mouth with desperate sobs.
She feels like falling.
"I wanted to die Malfoy! I wanted to bleed to death in the forest so that I wouldn't have to face the aftermath! I'd rather die than live in a world where Voldemort rules! I wanted to die but you wouldn't fucking let me!"
She takes a shuddering breath, "I thought I couldn't hate you anymore than I already did! But I was wrong! I fucking hate you Malfoy! You and everything you stand for!"
"You think I care?" He hisses between his teeth, "You think I give a fuck what you think of me? I told you, they won't just let you die! You think there was time for you to bleed to death? No, Dolohov was already coming for you when I took it upon myself."
He has gotten up and she realizes he's not putting weight on his right foot.
"Dolohov, you know him Granger, don't you?"
She does. From the department of mysteries, from the scars behind her left ear.
But she doesn't answer, just stares at him. Tears rolling still.
"You think your reputation has escaped the notice of the senior death eaters? You think the spoils of war are dealt only after the war is won?"
His words chill her bones.
"The deals they've made of you." he pauses, "You're the trophy Granger. Potters mudblood, worth fortunes."
She feels like she's going to be sick, "I'll never surrender to them! They'll have to kill me to…"
He laughs hollowly, "I already told you. They won't let you die. I told you to run too."
"And didn't let me die!" she lifts her chin proudly and wipes her face, "you're one of them? Have you been there too, sharing your sick fantasies with the rest of them?"
Suddenly he's in her space, towering over her like a dark shadow. "Don't fucking think you know a thing about me! Don't stand there and accuse me of something you don't have a clue about!"
He has grabbed her arm, "If you'd know how many people put their lives on the line to get you out of here tonight, you wouldn't stand there so fucking proud and stubborn! If you had any idea what other people have gone through last year, if you cared about something else than your own fuckig chivalry…"
"What do you mean?" she interrupts his outburst, "Why are you even here? Your side won. Why would they lock you up with me?"
She can think of a few scenarios, but she wants to hear it from him.
He still has a firm grip on her arm. And she still stands tall and proud matching his gaze every step of the way. Even though on the inside she feels like shattering.
They've lost. And there's nothing left.
"You think you've got everyone figured out Granger. You think you're insightful enough to profile every one of us, don't you? You think this, " he shows her his dark mark, "is proof enough of the side I've chosen."
He's so close she can see his silver eyes storm, "What did you do to your parents?"
Her feet go numb and her breath hitches to her throat. How does he know?!
"What would you have done if they were used as a hostage? If you obeying was the only way to keep them safe? What lengths do you think Potter would have gone to save his parents? What do you think Weasley was ready to endure to save his family? How far would you have gone to keep your friends alive?"
She opens her mouth to argue but he interrupts her, "Don't try to insist it's different! You know it isn't."
She yanks her hand back, "Get the fuck away from me!"
She walks further into the cell and hugs her hands around herself as he speaks. His back turned to her now, hasty like hissing he spits out words, "I know what they're up to. Theo's father has been a part of it. They're not going to ask you nicely — or even rudely. The department of Mysteries has developed something for Him. Theo says it's like imperius and obliviate at the same time. He's going to make everyone follow him, if it's not by their free will, He'll take that away. They won't ask you Granger. They'll make you follow The dark lord and think you want that."
Slowly he turns to her again. She doesn't want to believe a word he's saying. Doesn't want to analyze what his words mean.
"I tried to get them out before it was too late. When the battle ended there was no room for resistance anymore. Everyone caught will be his to rule and they won't question it. I was this close, " he shows her a little space between his thumb and index finger, "of getting you out of it. Daphne was two minutes away in the forest. She would have been able to patch you up and get you out."
His words make no sense. She understands absolutely nothing. And she might be holding her breath because the world has started to feel hazy.
"I'm here, in this fucking mess because of you, so you better listen to me for once in your pathetic life. Fighting will make it worse. There's nowhere to run, so drop the Gryffindor courage. Drop the noble ideas and use that pretty little head of yours. In a world where Darkness rules it's better to submit than to fight. Fighting will only make you lose control. Better to be a high-class whore than a sex slave."
She shudders, wants to interrupt, but he has her pinned still.
"It's their rules now, make sure you play with your terms. The vengeance you want, will come later."
"Why would I believe a word you say?"
"What choice you have?"
They don't talk after that.
He's taken away the next morning. And she's left to sit in the dark cell, dwelling in his words and crying for the world she fought so hard for.
The world forever lost.
.
.
.
She has no idea how long she spends in the prison cell. Stares at the empty walls and makes up scenarios in her mind. Thinks back to their Hogwarts years and tries to analyze where it all went wrong.
Reconsiders her classmates, their actions, means and ends. And more than once her thoughts swirl around what Malfoy said. Most of his words make no sense to her. But some… Some she might take into consideration…
When she finally gets taken to the courtroom of the ministry it's not really a trial. As if she'd thought it would be…
Voldemort himself is there. And his most loyal Death Eaters, serving as his jury.
She sits in the chair in front of them.
And doesn't say a word.
There used to be a time when she would have. When she'd tried to defend herself and others. When she would have told them all the ways it all was wrong and inhumane. But what's the use? No one in the room will ever say aloud she should be set free. No one will show any sign of respect.
She used to be one of the key players in Harry Potter's team. She's a mudblood. She represents everything they want to get rid of. Nothing she could say will change that.
Their rules, her terms.
Lestrange and Dolohov both make a bid for her. In a twisted way she finds it satisfactory how much they're ready to pay for her.
Voldemort seems to see it too. Because he smiles at her coldly.
"It seems your worthless muggle-born blood is worth something regardless, Miss Granger."
He rubs his chin as if thinking. But she knows, it's just for show. Her fate was set the minute she walked into the room.
They're not going to just sell her on a fixed price.
'Better to be a high-class whore, than a sex slave.'
Now she understands what he said. Knows there's truth to his words. And closes her eyes as Voldemort declares her fate to the audience.
"Of course a treasure like her should be shared. Don't you think gentlemen?" His high voice announces, "She'll be sent to the park. And you'll all get to enjoy her charming company. She'll be the shining gem of our newest achievement."
Once, she would have fought when they took her away. Once she would have screamed. Once she would have thought fighting to death was an option. Now she understands it's not.
.
.
.
She sits on a high operating table. Naked in front of a wall-sized mirror. Stares at her own eyes and tries not to scream. Because screaming will only make it worse. She saw it, just hours before when a girl tried to fight them. They just subdued her with a spell and carried on like nothing had happened. And the girl just stared ahead the rest of the time, clearly unaware of what was happening to her.
She didn't want that. She wanted to see what they did. Wanted to be there to witness what was done to her before her free will would be taken away.
Maybe if she saw what happened, it would be easier to recall who she once was.
They talk about 'the park' and 'casino' as the team works on her. It's hard to follow their conversation because she understands only half of what's been said. If she had time to think she'd wonder what the world had turned into. But she doesn't...
In front of her eyes she's remade.
Her scars healed, her skin evened, her curls softened, lashes thickened, her lips filled. Soft, smooth skin, flawless body, full in just the right places.
Then they pick her clothes. Something she'd never pick herself.
Flick their wand and outfits appear on her.
A glittering blue full length dress.
Denim shorts, crop top and a red bandana scarf.
Stilettos and sneakers.
A high-class whore.
She thought she'd die in the forest. Bleeding out under Draco's hands. But she didn't.
Instead she survived all the way here to watch herself die.
In the mirror, Hermione Granger closes her eyes for the last time.
.
.
.
The blond man in an expensive black suit by the bar is not on her list. She knows that as she swirls the cocktail stick in her drink.
She's already seen her target for tonight is here too. Playing roulette, intensely staring at the rolling ball. She knows she should go to him. Sit by him and tell him the winning number.
But the blond man looks out of place. Feels out of place.
Like she knows him, although she's sure she has never seen him before.
Her boss is going to be displeased if she doesn't do her job correctly. But her curiosity overpowers her obedience and she seeks the blond man out anyway.
He's serious and quiet. But there's something in him, she finds irresistible. Something that makes her stick with him, even though the voice in the back of her mind screams she's not doing what she's supposed to.
He lets her hook her hand with his. Responds to her flirting — in a collected, neat matter — but responds nevertheless. She can see amusement in his demeanor every now and then. And when their eyes meet, the stormy silver in his flickers, like hiding something. Something she finds out she wants to unravel.
When the man in the grey suit greets her, he pulls her closer. Like acknowledging her his.
She doesn't like the other man. Not that she knows him, but there's something dark in the way he talks. Something threatening in the way he looks at her. Like a beast hunting a prey.
She hopes Draco stays with her for the rest of the evening.
Maybe he would have stayed, but the robbers come in.
The gun in her hand feels familiar. The adrenaline ignites her senses and she knows they can get out of there!
She knows she has to take Draco out of there! And that Draco will have her back.
She remembers reading that the reality is always one millisecond away from being something entirely different. One twist in the course of events can change the whole future. That night, as she fires her gun again and again, she's almost certain what the options are.
The one where either of them gets shot to death. And the other where they survive and he takes her to the hotel room, to the king-sized bed. Where they take advantage of the rush of adrenaline and the euphoria of being still alive.
Somehow it feels inevitable.
The night however, doesn't end in bed with silky sheets but on the street outside the casino doors. Blood pooling out of her. His hand on her stomach and his desperate plea for her to stay alive.
For the last minutes of her life, she looks at his eyes and remembers seeing them like this before. Remembers her cold hands gripping his. Remembers the shudder and the coldness. Remembers him begging, and her own twisted pleasure about the fact she can deny him that one last time.
She clutches his hand now, whispers his name. And wants to tell him, that this time she really didn't want to die on him. This time she'd rather had the other option. She'd rather get to know him than leave him now.
But she doesn't get to.
Death never waits for the right time.
.
.
.
The blond man in the street in sunlight catches her attention. He's not on her list, not who she was supposed to meet. But there's something in him she can't ignore. Darkness, that people in this city usually lack.
She's used to easy and light and carefree. The man, who tells her he's named after a constellation, is none of those things.
Even though he spends the day with her. Seems to be enjoying her company, at least to some extent. There's the shadow on his demanoir, she can't ignore. Like his presence wakes something in her, she can't quite grasp with anyone else.
It fascinates her. Makes her heart speed up and skin tingle. Like he charges her with electricity that starts to sizzle in her veins.
She can't subdue the urge to search that further. Even though every step with him is one enormous fight with what she's supposed to do and what she wants to do.
Only when she's by the bar in the casino and he approaches her in his black suit she realizes there's something badly wrong.
Only when she feels the gun, that's not there, in her hand. Only when the image of his hands covered in her blood almost paralyze her, does she realize the reality she thought was clean and simple, is a relative term.
They shoot her right there.
As he catches her limp body, memories of multiple lives flash beyond her eyes.
.
.
.
How much of her is Holly and how much Hermione? Which actions are her own and which defined by the role given to her?
She has been here for months, probably years. All of her adult life. She's done things she never even thought of doing before getting here. Little by little she gets better at separating her free will from the design. But it's still blurry on the edges.
The gun on her garter makes her feel powerful. Even though there's no power for her here. Or is there?
Their rules, her terms.
Her terms as she kisses Draco Malfoy.
Her terms as she sees revolution in his eyes.
Her terms as she undresses him in the shower.
They might be in control of her, but she's beginning to find a detour around that control.
And that detour is Draco Malfoy.
With him she suddenly knows who she is. With him her head feels clearer and it's easier to divide her own mind from the constructed one.
He stirs feelings in her, that somehow wake her up. Make her remember better. Make her feel in control.
He might have tried to save her once.
He's real in this unreal world. There's darkness in him there's not in anyone else. And that darkness draws her in.
Draws Hermione Granger in.