Hello readers!

A new story for you; a Dramione one this time. I've been wanting to write a darker, thriller story for a while and last night this one came to me as I was trying to fall asleep.

Please be aware; this story is rated M for explicit scenes of a sexual nature, violence, swearing, and death. If you're uncomfortable reading about any of that, then this story may not be the one for you.

This story will be set in seventh year, after the battle of Hogwarts; a sort of AU as everyone came back to finish their education. I hope you enjoy angsty!Draco - he's probably my favorite to write. So much emotion, so little knowledge on how to properly express it. It's always a good time.

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Enjoy! xx

It's been two weeks since Hermione Granger has gone missing.

The ink on the tip of his quill had dried long ago as he stared at the parchment in front of him. He didn't know why this bothered him so much. With Voldemort gone and the war over, her disappearance didn't add up. Why survive this long, fight this hard, just for it to be over a few months later?

"Oi, Malfoy, turn off your bloody light, would you?" A gruff voice barked from the darkness of one of the canopy beds in the Slytherin boy's dormitory. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Draco closed his notebook and gently placed the quill he had been holding for several minutes on top of it. The words he had written seemed forever etched into his brain as he extinguished the fire on his desk with a wave of his wand. He sat in the darkness, seeing those words burned into the air in front of him.

After a moment of collecting himself, he pulled himself away from his desk and collapsed onto his bed.

Even in the dark, he could picture her in perfect detail and the last time he had seen her.

Her wild hair had cascaded down her back in long ringlets. He stared at it as he approached her, his textbooks grasped tightly in his hands. She had turned to look at him, she always knew when he was coming, and that beautiful smile he had become accustomed to seeing shortly after their study sessions had begun was thrust upon him. He didn't know how he could've not noticed it in all of their years spent growing up together. It was almost too much for him.

"Hi," she had said, that little smile pulling at her lips.

"Hi," he had said before he bent and captured her lips against his.

He felt wrong for thinking of her like that now – given the circumstances. But sometimes he couldn't help himself. Her absence affected him far greater than he had expected it to. He missed her. No, he craved her. He craved their long nights spent in the shadows of the abandoned library, running away from their lives in the most reckless ways they could think of. Even now, he could feel the warmth of her breath on his collarbone and the feel of her little hands on the small of his back.

They had only had a few weeks together before she disappeared. It wasn't enough. It wasn't fair.

He remembered the search parties that had been assembled after she'd failed to turn up to classes two days in a row. That wasn't like her at all. She could've been off fighting dark forces and she'd still have made time to attend her classes. Her sudden absence had worried him, but he had kept his distance from the situation. They had promised long before anything had happened between them that their meetings would remain a secret. At first, it had merely been a way to stave off the humiliation that would surely come from associating himself with her (or maybe it was the other way around), but the longer they spent together, the more it became about preserving their alone time. Stretching it for as long as they could manage.

Weasley had taken her disappearance the worst. His cries had echoed throughout the Great Hall when McGonagall had no choice but to call off the search parties nine days after she'd disappeared. Draco had done his best to remain impassive. It wasn't until he'd gotten back to the boy's dormitory in the Slytherin common room that he'd collapsed onto the ground and felt the overwhelming wave of grief rush over him.

But he was stubborn, and he couldn't believe that he'd never see her again. He could still sense her; could still smell her perfume in the air around him late at night and feel her fingers brush against him in the hallways in the middle of the day.

Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling and tried to turn his brain off. Every time he closed his eyes, they'd pry themselves back open. When it was clear he couldn't force himself to sleep, he allowed his mind to wander to her. Always to her.

"Are you okay?" She asked. Her voice was quiet, despite them being the only two in the library. "You seem… quiet tonight."

He looked up at her from his spot on the ground in front of the dwindling fireplace. The shadows from the flames bounced across her face, lighting up her eyes. "I worry," he said truthfully.

"About what?" Her voice had been so smooth, so innocent, despite everything she'd been through. She never lost her light.

"Us."

She looked concerned. "What about us?"

He twirled his wand anxiously around his finger. "We're graduating soon." His sentence left a thick layer of tension in the air. Hermione looked down at her book again, but he could tell she wasn't reading anymore. He pushed himself up onto his knees and took hold of one of her small, soft hands. Her eyes flicked up to catch his gaze again. "I don't want to lose you." He whispered. "I want you, endlessly."

She bit her lip. The shadows of the library did nothing to hide the blush of heat that spread across her dark cheeks. "I want you too."

He pushed himself up further and pressed his lips against hers. Her feather-light fingers slid through his hair and settled on the nape of his neck. The feel of her fingertips against his skin raised goosebumps onto his forearms. It was still a sensation he was growing used to – this energy she emitted onto him was nothing like he'd experienced before. It was intoxicating.

He opened his eyes to the ceiling above his bed. His body tingled like he could still feel her touching him. He had to restrain himself from following her imaginary trail over his body. A thin layer of sweat had begun to consume him. He couldn't help himself; the temptation was too strong.

He flung his sheets aside and hurried for the bathroom. He locked the door behind him before he turned on the shower and pulled off his sweaty clothes.

The warm water slid down his back and flattened his hair to his head, but as he leaned his forehead against the side of the shower, his mind was so far away.

He could picture her beneath him; her cheeks rosy and her eyes on fire as her fingers trailed down his stomach and her lips left soft kisses along his chest. Could hear her ragged breath rattle and mix with his own as she gripped his hair with her fingers and arched her back as he moved inside of her.

He braced his free hand against the wall by his head and bucked his hips before he was granted release from the tension building below his waist. The tears came shortly after. They flowed down his cheeks freely and mixed with the shower water. As the adrenaline and desire drained from his body, so did the precision with which he imagined her touch. Her details blurred and she became a distant memory once more.

As she slipped further and further from his grasp, he became more and more desperate to keep her close. He pulled his arm back and punched the wall of the shower. He could feel the sting of pain shoot through his knuckles and up his arm. It felt real and solid. He did it again. After three more punches, he stopped and examined his knuckles.

They were bruised purple and bloody. He watched the water mingle with his blood and drip from his hand down into the drain by his feet. With immense effort, he turned the shower off. He was enveloped in thick silence as he toweled himself off. He eyed the bruise blossoming on his knuckles and debated on keeping them there, as a reminder to refrain from doing what he'd just done. He could sense her so clearly when he refrained from relieving himself of her memory. Her touch, her laugh, her petal-soft lips came back to him in vivid color.

He eyed his naked body in the mirror on the other side of the bathroom. He wouldn't slip again, he assured himself, before he picked up his wand and cast a glamour charm to cover the purple discoloration of his knuckles.

He dressed and found himself back in bed, not nearly as satisfied as he'd hoped he'd be, but decidedly more tired. It only took him a few moments to fall into unconsciousness.

When he opened his eyes again, he'd imagined sunbeams sprawling across his bedsheets and the sound of his other dorm mates moving around. Instead, the room was still pitch-black, and he could vaguely make out the sound of someone snoring. What time was it? He rolled onto his side and bunched his covers into his fists against his chest. He tried to let out a long sigh, hoping to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders.

"Draco."

He sat up instantly and eyed the dark corners of the room. He had heard it right in his ear, whispered so softly that the hair on the back of his neck had stood on end.

"Draco."

That's when he noticed her. Her wild hair and one of her eyes peeked through the cracked dormitory door from the corridor. He almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. He tried to rub at his eyes and blink her away, but she stayed ever-present. One of her pale hands reached in through the crack and her fingers stretched out for him.

"Please." She whispered.

He grabbed his cloak and clasped it over his bare chest before he started towards her. He didn't have time to question what he was seeing, he just had to touch her. He grabbed ahold of the doorknob and yanked the door open, ready to pull her to him, but she was gone. He stared at the spot she had last been in disbelief. Was he going crazy?

"Draco."

He turned and looked towards the top of the stairs leading up to the common room. She stood at the top, her heavy curls obstructed half her face in dark shadows.

"This way." She reached her hand out for him again.

He approached her without hesitation. His fingertips longed to touch her. He reached his hand out for her when his fingers phased through hers and his fingertips burned cold like he'd just dunked them into a bucket of freezing water. He yanked his hand back in surprise. "Granger," he whispered. "Where are you?"

Her head turned and she looked out one of the windows at the deep abyss of the Black Lake beyond. Her hand lifted again, and she pointed to it. He followed her gaze to the murky waters on the other side of the glass.

"There." She whispered. Her eyes turned back to him. "Please. I…" Her mouth fell open and water dribbled down onto the carpet. "Draco." He looked up from the carpet. "Help… me."

A thud against the window pulled his gaze away from her and he cried out in shock. He could see her body sinking past the window, unconscious and her eyes closed as she drifted lazily down to the bottom of the lake.

He gasped in a breath and his eyes flew open as he was pulled violently from his sleep. He coughed several times, as though he'd been choking. He blinked through the tears that had begun to cascade down his cheeks and his hands shook uncontrollably. It had all felt so real. Too real.

The lake. He grabbed for his wand and leaped up before he raced from the room. He ran as hard as he could, completely unbothered at the thought of being caught out of bed after hours. He padded quickly across the cold floor of the dungeons and hurried through the corridor out onto the grounds. A brisk winter breeze instantly dowsed him as he stepped outside. He had not thought to bring shoes with him to trudge through the snow, but he didn't have the time to turn around now. He knew she would be there; he had to go and get her.

His breath rattled aggressively from his lungs as he forced himself through the snow. His toes felt instantly frozen and his body began to shake as he pulled to a stop by the Blake Lake's dark edges. He hesitated. White, puffy clouds expelled from his mouth as he stared at the water's edge. He clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously. What if she wasn't down there? What if it really had been just a dream? Could he really chance it? No. He decided. He couldn't.

He took a breath and prepared himself for the cold before he launched himself off into the water. It engulfed him in a prickly chill that shocked him momentarily. He sunk further beneath the surface; his limbs rigid against the cold. He had made a mistake. With this realization, he found the strength to unfreeze his limbs enough to try and swim back to the top. He broke the surface and breathed in a sharp breath through his frozen lungs. Just as he'd begun to swim back to shore, he felt something latch on his ankle and tug him back under. He held his breath just as his head submerged under the ice-y water once more, instantly freezing his ears.

He looked down at his ankle, ready to plant a well-placed kick on whatever had grabbed him. He almost lost his breath when he saw the merperson's webbed fingers wrapped tightly around his ankle. He tried for a kick, but its spear easily deflected his foot away.

"She is here," it said through a gurgled bubble of air.

Draco felt himself still. How had it known what he was looking for? "Where?" He pushed out the best he could.

The merperson pointed its long spear deeper into the dark waters. "There." It let go of his ankle and took off past him.

"Wait!" Bubbles escaped his mouth and he hurried to the surface again. This time when he broke through, he gulped in three deep breaths as quick as he could before he submerged himself under again. He turned in a panicked circle, looking for the creature. He spotted it several feet away, watching him through a tall curtain of seaweed.

"Your kind are not allowed down here!" It screeched. "Dumbledore promised! We will not be blamed!"

"I'll take her," he mumbled out.

The merperson hesitated in the distance, as though it were debating his words. Suddenly, it swam up to the top of the lake, grazed the surface like a fish, and dived at high speeds into the depths of the seaweed. Draco watched it disappear into the darkness.

"No, wait!" He tried to call after it, but he was already too late. There was no way he'd be able to dive deep enough to search the bottom of the lake. He turned and started for the surface again. His legs and arms felt like they had boulders attached to them as he fought against the prickling cold of the water. In a few more weeks, this lake would be completely frozen over.

Just before he broke the surface, he heard the familiar screech of the merperson. He looked back down into the murky depths and searched for its glistening tail. It took him a few seconds before he finally spotted it, bulleting for the surface with a bundle of clothes clutched tightly in its webbed fingers. Draco's stomach tightened at the sight and he hurried to swim back down to meet it.

The merperson lifted its arms and released the bundle up to him before it turned and disappeared back into the shadows without waiting to see if he'd grab it.

He didn't have time to consider a trap. He swam as hard as he could to the slowly sinking bundle. He grabbed ahold of it and pulled it along with him as he hurried for the surface. His lungs burned with the effort it took to hold his breath and he broke the surface already gasping for air. He coughed up the cold water and gasped at the shock of cold air that settled onto his skin. He felt drowsy and heavy, but he couldn't stop now. Not yet.

He propelled himself as hard as he could for the shoreline. He had refused to look at what he was carrying; too afraid of what it might confirm.

As he pulled himself out of the water, he dropped the bundle clumsily onto the ground. He coughed several more times and his body shook violently as he reached a shaky hand out and rolled the bundle over.

There she was. The sight of her was enough to bring him to the ground. Her skin looked bloated and disfigured and her soft lips had turned purple from the cold. It confirmed what he had already thought to be true, but he had been pretending wasn't to spare himself the horrors of it.

"Granger," he stuttered out. His fingers moved a strand of her wet curls out of her face as the tears began to gather in his eyes again. "Please, don't do this Granger." He reached out and took a hold of her arms before he pulled her upper body into his lap. "Wake up Granger… wake up." He gripped her chin in his fingers and turned her head back and forth. His sobs wracked through his body and his tears gathered and fell onto her forehead.

"Help!" He screamed out as loud as he could, hoping to attract somebody's attention. "HELP! SOMEBODY!"

A light blinded him, and he squeezed his eyes shut and bent his head over Hermione's body as he continued to scream out in agony. He didn't even know if he was saying anything coherent. A blanket of warmth wrapped around his shoulders. The sudden contrast in temperature was too much for him and he collapsed.

He awoke to the smell of fresh linen and pancakes. For a moment, he thought he had dreamed it all. But when he opened his eyes, he realized he wasn't in his bed. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and cast long beams of light across the hospital bed. On the table beside him was a plate of warm pancakes and a card.

"Wha… Granger?" He struggled to untangle himself from the sheets.

"You're not going anywhere, Mr. Malfoy." Madam Pomfrey appeared beside him as if from thin air. "That was quite a foolish thing you did, running out into the cold like that." She tutted at him.

"Where's Granger?"

Madame Pomfrey busied herself with her potions, which she had laid out on the bedside table of the bed beside him. She didn't look at him as she mixed a few of the potions together into a cup of tea. "Here." She said as she handed it to him.

He didn't reach out to take it. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"Please dear, if you would just – "

He swatted the cup from her hands, and it shattered onto the ground. He eyed her closely, waiting for her to answer him.

She stared down at the cup with a quivering lip and tears in her eyes. Finally, she took a ragged breath and met his gaze. "Ms. Granger is… dead, Mr. Malfoy. She was dead long before you brought her to us."

He stared at her, unable to move or speak. He couldn't believe it. It was hard enough to imagine she was missing, but now? Now she would never come back to him. Never kiss him again. "Leave me alone." He said sternly.

She didn't need to be told twice. She waved her wand and repaired the cup of tea, which she sat back down on the table with the instructions to finish all of it before she hurried away with tears streaming down her face.

He laid himself back down and waited for the tears to come, but they never did. He felt numb, despite finally feeling warm again. He stared at the ceiling for nearly an hour before he succumbed to the heavy pull of sleep.

When he awoke for the second time that day, the light had turned orange with the setting sun. The pancakes on his bedside had been removed and replaced with the teacup, with a note instructing him to drink it if he wanted to feel better. But did he want to feel better? He didn't think he'd ever feel better again.

He turned to look for his wand when he noticed the figure sitting in the chair beside him. He jumped at the sight of Harry Potter's green eyes staring hard at him. They sat in silence for several minutes, eyeing each other carefully.

"How did you know?" Potter asked. His voice sounded hoarse and his eyes were red.

"Know what?" Draco asked dumbly.

Potter looked away from him and pursed his lips, as though he were working to control his anger and, perhaps, his devastation. A few seconds later, he turned back to look at him. "How did you know where to find her?"

Draco didn't know what to say. He couldn't very well tell him she had appeared in his dreams and told him where to look. "It's hard to explain."

Potter was on his feet instantly. "Try me." He said. It was a challenge.

Draco hesitated. He couldn't tell him about their library adventures, or how close they had become in the past few months. It was too hard and too messy to rationalize to him. He shook his head. "I… saw it in a dream."

Potter looked skeptical as he mulled this over. Obviously, it was not the answer that he had been wanting to hear, but he didn't question him about it either. "If I hear that you had anything to do with this – "

"You'll what, Potter? Kill me?"

"Yes." His voice did not waver. "I'll kill you dead. And I'll revoke my statement and send both of your parents to Azkaban, where they belong."

Draco eyed him for any signs of a bluff, but there wasn't any to be found. "Okay." Was all he could say.

He could tell Potter had wanted more of a confrontation. A confession. He wanted somebody to fight. Somebody to blame. For once, Draco understood his every thought. Dare he say that he sympathized with him.

With his promise made, Potter turned on his heels and left the hospital wing without another word.

Draco waited several minutes to ensure that he was gone before he sat up in his bed. He reached for the cold cup of tea and downed it. He had to get better.

He had to find who was responsible for this. And when he did; he'd kill them. Kill them dead.