A/N: One more part after this...All I can say about this part is that I'm actually really happy with it because it's so depressing, and yet...in a way, not. As it's supposed to be. I don't expect people will exactly love it, but don't flame me, I beg of you, because flames really upset me, and well...you don't know how it will end. *sigh* It' really sad, and the last part will be sad as well. However, I'm debating between two endings now, one really depressing, one just semi-depressing...I'm just rambling now, aren't I?
Anyway, there's just one more part after this. I literally have six assignments for Monday, so I'm not sure when the ending will be up. Review, Enjoy, as always!
"Wake up?" said Lucius disbelievingly, his voice toned with amusement. "When I took care of that book?"
"You just can't die in a dream," said Hermione, her voice strangled.
"Guess again," said Lucius silkily, moving the knife to her back and running it down her in a small line, just breaking the skin. Hermione doubled over in pain.
"Stop it," hissed Draco vehemently, speaking for the first time.
"Why do you care, Draco?" said Lucius suddenly, "Why do you give a damn what I do to this mudblood?"
"Because...because..." Draco stammered, his face white. His hands clenched into fists and he said determinedly, "Because I love her."
Hermione felt Lucius' grip on her tighten possessively.
"Right, like that's gonna do anything, Malfoy," said Ron, scowling and trembling at the same time. Lucius glared at Ron and viciously slashed the blade against Hermione again, "GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!" screamed Ron, stepping forward furiously.
Draco couldn't even find it in himself to tell Ron off. He felt numb as Hermione let out another muffled scream. He could see blood dripping down her back now.
"Lucius," said a cool voice.
Lucius whirled around, his arms still locked around Hermione's neck. Voldemort glared maliciously at him.
"Why are you wasting time? Put curses on these two," he gestured to Ron and Draco, "and then kill the mudblood. Quickly."
Lucius spluttered, "Draco?" he said incredulously, "But he was our tool for..."
"And he failed. For that, he must die."
Lucius looked grim. Voldemort gave a smile that did not reach his eyes. "You're not devoted to me..."
"My lord, I am..." started Lucius.
"Not enough. A single doubt makes you not devoted in my eyes," said Voldemort scathingly, "And for that, you awake today. For that, you will pay tomorrow."
"My Lord, I beg of you. I'm utterly disloyal, and you have my humbled apologies...I'll... I'll be rid of him now..." whimpered Lucius, edgily creeping nearer to Draco. Draco yawned in an obvious and enlarged way, tapping his foot impatiently at the same time.
"A single pause is not true devotion, Lucius." And with that Voldemort drew out a thin wand, so frail that it looked as thought it could snap from a mere touch. Ron gave a visible shudder. Voldemort waved it, and Lucius made a strangled noise, dropping to the ground, his eyes closed. His body flickered in the light, the dagger clattered onto the soft grasses, and then he was gone. Draco looked furious.
"What did you do?" he said softly.
Voldemort pursed his mouth, "I let him wake up. I'll deal with you myself. Three to one though, a bit unfair, don't you think?"
"We don't have wands!" Hermione burst out, flinching from movement. She had rips down the back of her robes and thin cascades of blood running over the cloth in random designs. Draco glanced at her, looking extremely unnerved.
"Really? Then it's much more of a fair fight after all," said Voldemort lightly, "No one will come to my aid...or yours. They're all awake."
"May we bide some time?" said Draco, putting on his character sneer.
"I have all the time in the world," replied Voldemort, "But no running off, mind..."
"Wouldn't dream of it," said Draco. "Now then, this is your new hideout. Is it not?" Hermione gawked at him. Why didn't he say any of this to her...?
"Clever boy," said Voldemort casually. "This was the only way those ministry fools would never find me. Unless someone knows I'm here they'll never think to dream about me. Why, most only conceive me in nightmares."
"Imagine that..." growled Hermione, her eyes flashing dangerously.
Voldemort shifted a bit and then said quietly, "You, mudblood. You're even more clever then him. You figured out what was around this castle here. You found out where the souls all go to."
"If I was more clever I might've gotten us out of here by now," Hermione said dejectedly, anger still tinting her every word. "My turn to ask a question. Why was the liquid red where I stepped?"
"Why, I would have thought that much to be obvious. Their emotions are all gone, yours are thriving and fresh. Both the guilty and the innocent have souls, and now they are all combined and mixed. Those were feelings, floating to the surface in an effort to be sustained. You drew lots of them in your mourning, and suffering" he said smugly to Hermione, "While you drew barely any with the coldness within your soul," He smirked at Draco. "And of course, you stayed afloat because there was enough happiness, anger, regret, fury and...what have I forgotten? Ah yes...Fear. Such strong emotions in such compressed conditions is enough to keep anyone upright."
Hermione looked absolutely umbrageous. "That's HORRIBLE!" she shouted, "I've been walking on people's feelings! Their memories! Their hearts!"
"Don't forget their souls," said Voldemort, in a bored tone.
"You bastard," snarled Draco.
Voldemort idly twirled his wand between his long white fingers. Hermione was reminded of Draco for a split second. It was a horrible feeling, like she'd been plunged into a pool of fire, and then scorched with the coldest water.
"So that must mean," Hermione said thoughtfully, "That...that shadow that pushed me away from the castle...so long ago..." she let out a breath, "Was a soul. A fresh soul trying to save me. How ironic." She brushed wisps of hair from her eyes, trying to keep her voice steady, "I thought it was trying to kill me."
"Ah, yes," agreed Voldemort, "Pity."
"And why was Draco burned when he touched Ron's soul, but later he was not? Why wasn't I ever burned?" said Hermione.
"Simply because of certain emotions. Draco, that boy hated you, and so he burned you. As his feelings ebbed away with the other souls...so did his hatred..." Voldemort's voice sent shivers down Hermione's back.
"W-when those dem-dementors grabbed m-me," stammered Ron suddenly, "They-they thought I was H-Harry, eh?"
Voldemort just nodded, stifling a yawn. "Enough. I don't feel like answering any more of your questions. I've wasted enough time for today, and I must save my strength for the death of a certain Potter boy. This makes it so much easier." He began to pace, his eyes taking on a maddened, dead glint that hadn't been there before. "He's a heroic boy, and with his friends all dead he'll want revenge. He'll come looking for me, stupid child, and then I'll be ready." He looked at the faces around him expectantly.
Hermione looked resolute, like she had nothing to fear now. Ron was completely white, his red hair standing more pronounced then ever. Draco looked ill but ready, his pointed face set in a thin lipped grimace. He ran a hand through his thick, silver blond hair and stepped forward. "Why?"
Voldemort looked taken aback, "Why?" he asked in tones of annoyance.
Draco nodded, "Why us? Why are you the way you are?"
Voldemort sighed and said simply, "You had such promise to me. To the Dark Side. You could have taken unworthy lives with a snap of your fingers, with a twist of your wrist. No matter, it is not too late. I'll spare you. For a price..."
Draco looked back at him, his sightless eyes shimmering like water.
"After this, I'll erase any memories you have of this nightmare..."
"More of a dream," said Draco, catching Hermione's eye, "I'll do it."
Hermione put her hands over her eyes to hide the tears that were unstoppably falling. After all this, how could he just give himself up to the Dark Side? How could he forget this after all they'd been through? How?
No. He was saving himself. That was what she wanted...wasn't it?
"One of your more brilliant decisions tonight," said Voldemort seamlessly, his red slits of eyes glittering in the pale moon.
"Brilliant," repeated Draco, almost grudgingly.
Hermione licked her lips. They felt icy and harder then usual. She sighed. "I'm ready," she said morosely.
Voldemort waved a hand as if to brush away her words, and bent down, his black robes billowing out in a passing wind. He picked up the dagger and examined it just as Lucius did, as if it was foreign and yet familiar. "How well I remember," he murmured, "This. My father used it for...cooking. A duller version, that is. This one's sharper though, it cuts through skin, flesh, and bone...Mother never could stand it, when she could zap up food in moments." He smirked and then said menacingly, "It's only a relief that she stood it long enough for me to be born. I hate muggles. My father hated me, I hated him. I hate all muggles now. I hate you," he nodded to Hermione. She stared anxiously up at the sky.
One star, just let one star shine against that pitched, desolate sky...
"Come here," Voldemort said, his voice not showing anything but its usual frigid breath. Hermione walked over, telling herself over and over to keep her head up. She needed to now. She could not show her fear.
Her eyes strayed to Ron and Draco, and for a split second she could swear they'd been talking. Talking in a civilized, almost united way. She blinked and saw they were both still, no movement from their mouths, no sounds in the entire night. Voldemort drew the dagger up so that it caught the star's reflections...
Stars? Where had that come from? Hermione looked back at the sky. Dark. Black. Cold. And still empty.
She turned and faced Voldemort. She could see every line in his dead, white skin. He was inhuman, surreal, just a figment of her over active imagination at that moment. She was asleep, and when she was awake it would all be over, done with, wiped from her memory forever. She was not afraid.
Voldemort rubbed the blade vigorously on his robes, shining it.
She would not close her eyes. She looked at Draco, his eyes that she could lose herself in forever, however little they could really see. As grey and unseeing as the finest line of mist rolling across a mountaintop. At his hair, silver and blond and soft as crushed velvet under her touch. She turned to Ron. The freckles that dotted his nose and covered his face. His hair that was...was...words failed her. As red as the blood that would soon flow from her body as Voldemort snatched away her life...?
She backed up ever so slightly. Voldemort cracked his spindly fingers and brought his hand forward. Her eyes caught on the dagger, with its twisted, cresson and blae serpent design that intertwined to make the handle, the studded emeralds that were clustered at the base, and the silver blade that cast a fluid, dark light over everything in its path. Voldemort jerked his hand forward....
"NO!" screamed a voice.
A sickening plunge of metal into flesh, the squelching, spreading sound filled her ears. But there was no pain to come with it, no warm blood seeping and spilling over her robes and drenching her through.
And Hermione fainted, only feeling someone catching her with trembling arms as she fell to the ground below.
Harry blinked his eyes, rubbing away the dust that had collected in the corners. He'd had a dream when he was asleep, but it was so vague and yet so...what was that word? Real? Rather contradictory.
"There was Voldemort," he mumbled, "And Ron. And Herm as well. What rubbish, they're not with Voldemort." He ripped a corner from his scroll of parchment for History of Magic (Witchery in the middle ages), and scribbled on it.
Voldemort with Ron and Hermione. Dark out. Castle.
His quill paused and he sucked on the end, wishing that it was made of spun sugar rather then of a feather (which tasted quite bad). There was something else that he couldn't forget, somehow he knew the dream was important and that he couldn't just lay back and recall it like all others. His head didn't hurt. His scar wasn't burning. Maybe it was just a dream, a silly fragment of fear, a nightmare...Tsk, said a voice in his head, really shouldn't lie. It's quite naughty to lie. Now go on and think, think back to what you saw when you were asleep. Only when we're asleep do we find reality.
Something in Harry's mind clicked. He furiously scribbled on the parchment, wondering if it was wishful thinking on his behalf.
Malfoy. Dead.
Voldemort glared fiercely. With her eyes closed and her heart pounding, Hermione could still feel his eyes boring into her like drills. And still, it didn't hurt. She blinked her eyes open to see Voldemort savagely backing up like a wild animal, cornered by a hunter.
"I can feel it," he hissed, flicking out his tongue, "You will soon wake up. But you will pay. All of you will pay with your own grief." He waved his wand against the air, creating a dazzling array of flashing lights and colors. And they were left staring at the black sky, with no more then air to be afraid of. Hermione wavered, holding a hand to her chest and feeling her heart pounding madly within her, she let out a low sob and collapsed on the cool grass.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice dry and cracking.
Ron shook his head disbelievingly. "I....I don't rightly know."
Hermione looked up at him and then glanced in all directions. Suddenly, she felt as if someone had ripped her open and exposed her, letting her see revulsion, fear, pain, agony, sadness, and most of all, the truth.
"Draco..." she murmured, goading herself onto her knees.
"Right here," said Draco. "Really, what are you so...upset about?" Hermione winced. His voice was thick and yet quiet, and she could hear the effort that every word was costing him. She looked over to see him lying on his back, looking blankly at the sky.
"Oh God..." she whispered, crawling over on her hands and knees. "Draco...why?"
Draco turned to her, his face drained of more color then usual. His robes were covered in a spreading patch of blood, so dark it looked black. He grinned at her, wincing at the same time and then clutching a hand to his chest. "Why?" he said weakly. "Because...you..." he took a deep breath, gasping for more words, "Have so much to live for."
Hermione's breath quickened, "Nothing. No, Draco...God...don't say that..." she carefully undid his robes and ripped off a corner to her robe. She let out a gasp, seeing the deep slash that reached all throughout his chest. Urgently, she pressed the cloth to his wound and gently rubbed it to absorb the blood. He groaned.
Hermione looked apologetically at him.
"Hermione..." he whispered, taking his hand and caressing her cheek, "That wasn't pain it was pleasure." He vainly tried to draw a smirk but just flinched.
"Don't leave me," Hermione said lightly, putting her hand atop his.
"I'd never do that," said Draco, "Don't be so stupid"
Hermione dug her fingers into his skin, "Draco..."
"You made my life worth living again. And you made me know," he coughed, blood spurting from his lips, "That I was never alone. I'll never be alone again."
"How could you do this to me?" Hermione said again, leaning down towards him. She pulled back, her eyes flashing. "God...Draco, I can...I can..."
Draco blinked at her.
"I can see my reflection in your eyes," she whispered, staring transfixed at herself. Draco's eyes were the same steely grey as always, but now...they weren't....empty.
"I bet..." Draco began. Hermione could see that each word was getting more difficult to say, that each breath was getting harder to catch. "I bet...I know why." He smiled again, "Haven't you heard that your eyes are the mirror to your soul? Hermione, you're..."
Hermione couldn't take it, she felt tears pouring down her face and she curled down, pressing her lips against his with all her force. It was so different, this time she could barely feel him responding. She leaned down to him, her hands grasping his arms with so much strength that she knew she was hurting him, she knew he'd have bruises, but really...did it matter now? She kissed him, leaning into every kiss so much that she could feel his blood in her mouth. Draco curled his arm around her back and then pushed her away.
"Turn over and...look at the...stars with me," gasped Draco. Hermione weakly obeyed, feeling his warm blood covering her robes and skin. She didn't care.
"Draco, I do see stars," she whispered fervently, beginning to tremble.
"That's because I have a wish now," said Draco.
"I do too..." sniffed Hermione, turning over on her stomach and running her fingers through Draco's hair. It was like silk. "I want you to live."
Draco chuckled weakly, "It doesn't matter any more. Hermione..." he gasped, "Don't remember me...as I...was. Remember...as I am...Always remember, I'll always be with you." He choked down more blood.
"I guess this is it," she whispered.
"I just wish I could be there to see you wake up, Granger" said Draco, his voice so breathy and slurred now that she could barely understand him. "And I also wish that I had some really tart comment to make now so that you'd really remember me," Draco coughed, "Don't worry, I don't feel any pain. I'll finally be able to rest, and....I can stop...pretending." Draco coughed, his words fading away and lingering in the air. Hermione felt his hand go clammy and cold underneath hers. She lay her head down, letting her tears mix with his blood. His body went limp and he stopped gasping for air.
How she hated reality. Something light and soft fell onto her lap.
The book was opened to a fresh page. She could see someone running towards her...
And with a start, Hermione woke up.