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Chapter 14
Draco walked towards the Gryffindor Common Room, his soul heavy with the possibilities of what he could find. Hermione had gone to find Harry the second she'd learned that Voldemort would have to get rid of him. He knew, because he'd found out at the same time, and she had disappeared directly after.
He sighed in relief when he saw her disappearing inside the portrait that housed her friend. He wouldn't miss any of the conversation.
Instead of walking inside the room, he walked past the portrait a little ways and then gave a password to a small gray-haired witch who was practicing her knitting. She smiled at him and opened the portrait, and he went inside, being very quiet.
"Harry, you have to escape! My father—"
"You call him father?" Potter's voice sounded slightly strangled.
"Well yes, of course; that's what he is after all."
Potter sighed.
"Anyway, Harry, you have to escape. I've already worked it out. You'll leave tonight at ten when the Death Eaters switch watches."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You're coming with me; I'm not leaving you here."
"Oh, Harry… I can't come."
"Why not?"
"I just…"
"Hermione," his voice became pleading, "I love you, and I don't want to be separated from you. Who knows when we'll see each other again?"
"Oh, Harry…"
"Please."
"…Alright. I'll come."
There were no further words.
Not that it mattered. Draco wouldn't have heard them anyway, not with the blood pounding in his ears the way it was. Or the sound of his heart breaking. That didn't help matters either.
She was going to leave? Leave her father, leave the castle, leave…him? All for Harry Potter. All for Harry blasted Potter. All the idiot had done was tell her he loved her, and she went with him. That's what friends are, a nagging voice at the back of his head said. He didn't care. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was going to leave, and he had to find a way to keep her with him.
***
Dear Father,
Hermione set her quill down. This was hard. She didn't know what to write. What were you supposed to write to the father you barely knew? At least she knew her mother… After a fashion, of course. But her father… She didn't really know him at all. She knew what her mother had told her, but that wasn't much. And she really hadn't had time to get to know him very well.
But she had come to call him father. It hadn't been till after she had read her mother's diary, and seen her memories in the pensieve… And she had realized that he wasn't such a horrid person. Not as bad as she had feared, not quite as good as she had hoped—but no one was perfect of course.
The last few days had been almost monotonous. Nothing had really happened. Well, except for Pansy Parkinson's body being found in one of the lower dungeons. That had been a very large topic of conversation. No one knew how she had died, and it was as large a mystery as ever.
Normally she and Harry and Ron would have decided to solve it, but… Well, Ron was dead and Harry… Harry wasn't free. Yet. And if was going to be free, then she needed to finish this letter.
She sighed, picking the quill up again.
I'm sorry that I wasn't able to say good-bye in person, but I know that you would have tried to stop me, and I couldn't let that happen. Harry and I are leaving; we're going to join the rest of the teachers and students, wherever they are.
I love you. Always remember that, no matter what happens.
With love, your daughter,
Hermione Rhianna Thomasine Riddle, Lady Voldemort
Hermione sighed, setting the quill down again. She couldn't write anymore. This was horrible, being on the opposite side of her father in a war not yet finished. But she had to go; there was no other way.
***
Hermione walked towards her former common room, cursing inwardly about having no Invisibility Cloak when she needed one. It wouldn't pay to run into anyone, although seeing as how she was Lady Voldemort, no one should question where she was going or why. Except, of course, her father. His sleeping habits were unpredictable, as were the paths he took from room to room.
She sighed. There probably wouldn't be any problems. She didn't know why she was so worried.
"Hermione."
Her head jerked around and she stopped dead in her tracks, raising her wand.
"It's me," the voice said, and Draco Malfoy materialized in front of her.
She gasped. "Don't do that," she said, furious.
He smirked. "Sorry."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Hermione, I'm not going to let you go with him," Draco said. He sounded desperate.
"Why not?" Hermione asked curiously, her brow furrowing.
Draco shut his mouth. Then, he sighed. "Please, Hermione… Stay. Stay with me. Please."
The quiet misery she could hear in his voice almost brought Hermione to her knees, but she stayed upright with strength of will. "I can't," she whispered.
Draco shut his eyes. Opening them slowly, he stepped towards Hermione. She held her ground, although her knees were trembling at the depth of emotion she saw in his eyes. He leaned down, brushing a stray hair from her face and she shivered at the whisper of his hand across her skin. Capturing her lips in a scorching kiss, Draco pressed her against the wall, burying his hands in her hair. Hermione angled her lips against his, opening her mouth to allow him to slip his tongue into it.
By the time Draco pulled away, he was hard with need and Hermione's bun had been completely dilapidated. They were both breathing hard, and Hermione's lips were swollen, her eyes wide with shock.
"Please," Draco whispered, his eyes pleading with her.
Hermione's eyes filled with tears. "I can't." And with that, she left, leaving Draco collapsing against the wall, his head in his hands.
~fin~