The next day Draco returned to the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey told him
that Hermione had been pregnant. Draco's heart fell in his chest like a
rock dropped in the water. She had been carrying his child; her pregnant
state had caused all the emotions in her head. It had nothing to do with
him. All the while he wondered 'why didn't she tell me?'.
She was buried on the grounds with a statue of an angel at her head. Her grave read:
Hermione Granger
An angel to us all,
May her and her child
Rest in peace below the cold ground. Life for him now was a nightmare. Everywhere he looked he saw her face; from the paintings on the walls to the statues in the hall. She even haunted him in his dreams, he would see her face to face in an elaborate hall of gold and silver and then the floor would disappear; he would fall into an obis and he would never hit the bottom.
Draco stopped sleeping; he ate only small amounts, if that. He could never get her off his mind. Life just wasn't worth living to him anymore. The food had no taste, the faces of the people seemed blurred, and all the world seemed oblivious to his pain.
He wrote a letter to his father telling him of her death. The news made his father most pleased. His father told him she wasn't worthy of the Malfoy name and that he should find some one better, but to Draco there was no such person.
He wanted it all to end; all the pain, all the memories, all the hate that he felt inside for the world to be so happy. He got out her dagger from a glass box he had displayed next to her bed where he had laid each night in fitful dreams. He stared at it, his eyes full of hate. He knew he couldn't keep up the same lie she had; she had always been the stronger one, even if he didn't want to admit it. He looked closely at the hilt of the dagger; it was silver had the carving of am important looking Egyptian man in it with green emeralds and blue safaris embedded into it, the blade was a double edged sort made of gold.
A tear came to his eye which he quickly wiped away. Not tonight, he thought desperately to himself, soon. He put the dagger back in the box and laid awake thinking about her. He saw a light out of the corner of his eye, and there she was. She was wearing silver robes and a silver cloth covering her hair with a silver tiara holding it in place. But she quickly disappeared. He got her dagger back out and laid it against his throat. He pressed it deeply into his skin and he knew no more.
He sat bolt upright. He had been dreaming. He was in her old room, laying in her bed. He screamed out into the night, "WHY? WHY DO YOU TORCHER ME, SO? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE SUCH TORMENT?", and a small voice in the back of his head whispered, 'you didn't see the pain she was in, you only saw what you wanted to see'. And it hit him, it had always been his fault, he had never been there for her when she really needed him and so he whispered, "Of course, happy endings are for fairy tales; this is reality. Nothing can have a happy ending", she was gone. He had nothing left to live for.
She was buried on the grounds with a statue of an angel at her head. Her grave read:
Hermione Granger
An angel to us all,
May her and her child
Rest in peace below the cold ground. Life for him now was a nightmare. Everywhere he looked he saw her face; from the paintings on the walls to the statues in the hall. She even haunted him in his dreams, he would see her face to face in an elaborate hall of gold and silver and then the floor would disappear; he would fall into an obis and he would never hit the bottom.
Draco stopped sleeping; he ate only small amounts, if that. He could never get her off his mind. Life just wasn't worth living to him anymore. The food had no taste, the faces of the people seemed blurred, and all the world seemed oblivious to his pain.
He wrote a letter to his father telling him of her death. The news made his father most pleased. His father told him she wasn't worthy of the Malfoy name and that he should find some one better, but to Draco there was no such person.
He wanted it all to end; all the pain, all the memories, all the hate that he felt inside for the world to be so happy. He got out her dagger from a glass box he had displayed next to her bed where he had laid each night in fitful dreams. He stared at it, his eyes full of hate. He knew he couldn't keep up the same lie she had; she had always been the stronger one, even if he didn't want to admit it. He looked closely at the hilt of the dagger; it was silver had the carving of am important looking Egyptian man in it with green emeralds and blue safaris embedded into it, the blade was a double edged sort made of gold.
A tear came to his eye which he quickly wiped away. Not tonight, he thought desperately to himself, soon. He put the dagger back in the box and laid awake thinking about her. He saw a light out of the corner of his eye, and there she was. She was wearing silver robes and a silver cloth covering her hair with a silver tiara holding it in place. But she quickly disappeared. He got her dagger back out and laid it against his throat. He pressed it deeply into his skin and he knew no more.
He sat bolt upright. He had been dreaming. He was in her old room, laying in her bed. He screamed out into the night, "WHY? WHY DO YOU TORCHER ME, SO? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE SUCH TORMENT?", and a small voice in the back of his head whispered, 'you didn't see the pain she was in, you only saw what you wanted to see'. And it hit him, it had always been his fault, he had never been there for her when she really needed him and so he whispered, "Of course, happy endings are for fairy tales; this is reality. Nothing can have a happy ending", she was gone. He had nothing left to live for.
