hey guys sorry about the wait. my teacher caught me writing my story in
class and took it and threw it away and gave me a week worth of detention.
But its here and this chapter is a bit more emotional... well I hope you all
like it. Read and Review
thanks Jamie for all the help!
Chapter 2: Mistaken Destination Tears threatened to spill from Harry's emerald green eyes as he whispered, "Hello Sirius."
Sirius Black nodded his head. "It's been awhile." The portrait looked so real that Harry felt as if Sirius was alive again. He had been painted with his same old unruly hair down to his shoulders, his black eyes gleaming with mischief just like Harry had remembered.
"It sure has." Harry spoke absently, looking into his godfathers eyes. Wiping away his tears, he glanced up at Hermione. "Where did you get this?" He asked, curious, confused, and elated all at once.
"Well after, you know, you started shutting yourself off from everyone, and I asked Dumbledore if there was a way for you to see him again. He said he didn't know, Everard suggested a portrait of Sirius. I was scared, Harry. I saw how hurt you were and it hurt me too." Harry took in a deep breathe. Great, I hurt her, he thought. I hurt my best friend and more importantly the girl I love. Why does it seem like I hurt everyone I know? Breaking apart Harry's reverie were Hermione's next words: "I was scared because I thought...I thought that you'd do something drastic."
Harry looked at his godfather. Running his hands along the frame, for he couldn't look Hermione in the eye, he whispered, "I wouldn't have done anything, Hermione." But even as his traitorous tongue said them, he knew those words were a lie. He had thought about just taking his life so he wouldn't have to deal with the shit in his life. So he'd get a break from all the pain. He'd always wished he could switch places with someone. Give them the gift that was his name, his identity, his life. Have someone else deal with the torture. How he would love to see someone like Draco Malfoy go through just one day in his 'wonderful' life. Harry had always believed that no one would understand him, or how he felt. How much he hated his life. But sometimes, there was just the nagging, "What if?"
Hermione sighed, crossing her arms across her chest. Harry looked up immediately, and was disturbed to find her look so sad. Hermione looked away, feeling suddenly cold. All she could remember were the dreams. The dreams that kept her awake night after sleepless night, the dreams that left her with a despairing emptiness. As she closed her eyes to stop the tears from coming, images flashed in her head. Harry hanging himself, cutting himself, falling, drowning, burning, each time he died. By now, the dreams had run together. They were an endless slur of heartache and pain.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked urgently as she fell to her knees and poured her heart out through her tears.
"Hermione?!" Both boys cried as they rushed to her side.
"H-Harry just, just promise me you w-won't hurt yourself I wo-wouldn't be able to handle it," she sobbed as she leaned up against Ron's chest, unable to look at Harry.
Harry choked; he couldn't get any words out. Ron made soothing noises, but all Hermione could do was cry. Ron met Harry's gaze, his eyes reflecting the pain of the girl in his arms. Harry couldn't take it. It's funny how I, the great Harry Potter, can face Voldemort and live but seeing the girl I love cry kills me. Harry thought. His throat was tight, words were slipping through his fingers, and his chest contracted painfully around his heart.
"Hermione, I won't do anything, I promise." Harry said finally. He tried to catch her gaze, but she wouldn't look at him.
"Please, Harry. Those nightmares are all I can think about sometimes."
"What nightmares?" Ron questioned, his tone concerned. Hermione sobbed harder, her mind whirling. Should I tell them? She asked herself, unable to stop her tears. I should, but what if they don't understand?
"I don't want to talk about it." She murmured, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. How could she have told them her tears were all because of Harry?
"You know you can trust us with anything, Hermione." Ron said comfortingly. Why don't they see it? He asked himself, looking between his two best friends. They're so in love, but they just can't see it.
Hermione looked up into Ron's eyes, searching his bright blue irises as if they held the answer she needed. Not finding it, she turned to face Harry, but as her chocolate brown orbs met his strikingly emerald ones, every dream she had ever had about Harry pounded behind her eyes, each one showing the boy who lived, the boy she loved, falling onto the ground, lifeless.
Harry concentrated on the visions. He held his breath as he came to one involving not only himself, but his enemy Draco Malfoy as well. Hermione was standing there next to a wall with what looked like two bundles in her arms watching as Harry fell to the floor. It was then that Malfoy drawled in his cold, familiar voice, "Believe it Potter. I love her and always will." Hermione ran to Malfoy's side, handing him a bundle and looking at him in a way that Harry dreamed she might look at him.
"It's true," She whispered, the wind pulling at her voice and whipping her hair around her face. "I love him, and he loves me" As Harry lay there on the ground, blood soaking into the dry, sandy earth, Hermione walked away with Draco Malfoy.
Everything went black and another dream came into view. Apparently Hermione wasn't crying over this one. It was late at night, Harry couldn't tell where, but Draco and Hermione were locked in a passionate embrace. Lip to lip, Harry watched as Draco's nimble fingers began to undo the buttons on Hermione's blouse. He quickly searched for a different dream, but the nightmare never came. The images from Hermione's head rewound in a blur of colors and Harry suddenly found himself back in the same room, standing a few feet before his two best friends, one comforting the other, who was in his arms, crying. Hermione was sobbing harder. Ron looked at Harry; he knew exactly what Harry had done. Ever since last year when Harry had learned how to use Legilimency he would invade people's thoughts to pull out snippets of information or truth. Ron had learned that he might as well tell Harry anything and everything because he could find out anyway. Harry snapped back to the present, his mind whirling. Malfoy. Hermione. Words and pictures and colors flashed before his eyes, but one lingered. The image of Hermione sleeping just as the two boys had arrived. She was so peaceful, so serene, and so genuinely beautiful. Harry thought, but another crossed his mind: that contented smile had been the effects of her dreams. Her dreams about Malfoy. Harry glared coldly down at the slumped figures on the floor.
Hermione could almost feel Harry's gaze upon her. Taking in gasps of air to try to calm down, Hermione felt a small pang of anger. How dare he do that without asking her first? She had said she didn't want to talk about, and she had meant it. Her dreams and thoughts were personal; if she had wanted Harry to know, he should have trusted her to tell him. Finally stopping the flow of tears, she looked up and met his emotionless green eyes.
"Harry I--" she began.
"We should get you to the Burrow" he cut her off, turning away to start gathering her bags. Hermione sighed and stood up, the bitter taste of anger filling her words.
"Why the hell did you do that!?!" Her voice was demanding and sharp.
Harry ignored her question. "Did you have that dream just last night?" Hermione nodded shyly.
Harry turned swiftly and headed for the door when Hermione found her voice. "Harry, it was only a dream..." She tried to explain, her feelings for Harry overcoming any rage. If she could only make things between them better, maybe he'd forget about that dream, Harry spun around.
"It was Malfoy, Hermione. Draco Malfoy!" Harry practically screamed.
"A dream. Just a dream." Hermione almost whispered, her voice soft and pleading.
"A dream is a wish your heart makes." Harry said glaring at her, his tone filled with disappointment and disgust. "Apparently, you've got a rather traitorous heart."
"I guess so, since it's betraying what I feel." Hermione laughed, a strange, cold sound. "I thought I loved you, Harry. I thought that you were all I could ever want and everything I'd ever need. But I guess my heart says otherwise." Harry stared at her, his mind vaguely telling him that the girl he loved reciprocated that feeling, but all he could see was the image of her pressed against Malfoy. "I guess I was wrong." Hermione's voice cracked through Harry's daydream. "I don't need you."
"Peas in a pod, darling." Harry said coldly. "I don't think I ever needed you. It was fun while it lasted." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "I don't think anyone could ever love you."
Hermione stared at Harry's retreating form until her vision was too blurred to see. She fell to the ground hard, her legs buckling beneath her. Ron knelt down next to her and tried to hold her, but she pushed him away. Harry turned around and looked through the door, locking eyes with Ron. "Too far." The red-head mouthed, before turning back to Hermione. Harry apparated with a small pop and appeared next to his bed at the Burrow. He tossed the portrait of his godfather onto the clean white sheets and sank to the floor. What's wrong with me? He thought frantically. I fancy her, don't I? Then why did I say that?
"Why did she dream of him?" Harry murmured miserably.
"Why did who dream of whom?" A familiar voice asked. Harry glanced up to meet the eyes of Fred and George Weasley.
"It's complicated." Harry said, trying to avoid any further questions. "I don't really want to talk about it."
"But now we really want to know." George said. The twins sat down on the floor next to Harry.
"You have to tell us, mate." Fred grinned. "Talking really helps sometimes, and George and I are excellent with advice on girls." Harry sighed, and began to explain.
"Malfoy, eh?" George whistled. "That's rough."
"On both of you." Fred interjected.
"Both of us?" Harry asked incredulously. "She seemed as if she were having an excellent time!" The two brothers looked at each other and sighed.
"Harry," George started.
"You have to understand, girls don't always like the right kind of guy." Fred shrugged. "She didn't choose to have that dream, mate."
"You should have heard her when she woke up." A slightly muffled voice added. Fred and George looked around suspiciously, before Harry pulled the portrait down. At the curious glances, Harry explained.
"Hermione gave it to me for my birthday." Harry looked down at his godfather. "What did she say when she woke up?"
"Well," Sirius started, looking almost eager. "She was crying, asking herself how she could be so selfish, so stupid, to leave you when you needed her." Harry looked away.
"See?" George said after a moment of silence. "It's not her fault. I think you owe someone a rather heartfelt apology." Harry sighed.
"I suppose you're right."
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...
Back at Hermione's House*
"Hermione, we should really get back to the Burrow." Ron said softly.
"But what about--"
"I don't care about Harry. I'm not leaving you here alone, and I should probably get back soon." Ron sighed. "He doesn't hate you, Hermione. Quite the contrary. He's just upset that you chose Malfoy over him, even if it was in a dream."
"Maybe he's right." Hermione said quietly, folding her last few items and placing them in her trunk. "Maybe no one needs me. Maybe no one could ever love me, either."
Ron ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "He does love you, Hermione. And he needs you more than either of you will ever know. But he's upset right now. Give it time."
"I don't want to, Ron." Hermione snapped her trunk shut and faced him, her almond eyes coldly indifferent. "I've given him all the time in the world and he wasted every second of it. If a simple dream can tear our friendship apart, it wasn't as strong as I had come to believe. He doesn't need me, he doesn't love me." Picking up her trunk, she walked out the door. "And more importantly, I don't love him."
Ron followed, carrying the other two bags and Crookshanks in his wicker basket. I tried, mate. I really did. He thought sullenly. The two walked in silence to the fireplace. Placing the bags on the floor to reach for some Floo powder, Ron asked, "Hermione, this won't change anything between the two if us, will it?"
"Of course not Ron!" Hermione said, taking a pinch of powder for herself and replacing the canister on her mantle. "You and I are just as close as ever."
"Good." Ron said with a smile. He stepped into the fireplace with all of Hermione's bags, dropped his powder, and yelled. "The Burrow!" And in an instant and a flash of purple light, he was gone. Hermione smiled slightly and stepped in after Ron. Taking a deep breath to say her destination, Hermione accidentally swallowed a mouthful of soot.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake." She muttered angrily, forgetting about her Floo powder and dropping it in an attempt to cover her face. Suddenly, the world around her started spinning. "Shit," she muttered closing her eyes tight. She wondered were the hell she was going to end up. God she hated Floo powder. The spinning slowly started to subside so Hermione threw her hands out in front of her, bracing herself for the fall, but the fall never came. Instead of colliding with the hard floor, she found herself in a pair of muscular arms. Being wrapped in that warm, strong embrace gave Hermione a feeling of complete safety, as if nothing could hurt her as long as she never left the person holding her.
"Are you lost, ma'am?" A familiar voice asked. Hermione was almost afraid to look up, but felt herself compelled to do so. Silver eyes sparked in recognition. "Why the hell are you in my house, Granger?" Draco demanded roughly, but found that as harsh as his words had been, his arms were incapable of releasing the girl he was holding.
"I didn't mean to come here... was going to the Burrow." Hermione started explaining meekly, more just filling silence and calming her nerves than actually informing him of her trip. Draco rolled his eyes and tried to remove his arms, but found he was quite paralyzed. Why can't I let go of her? He asked himself. Because she fits so perfectly, his conscience told him. Hermione was still talking as Draco looked down at her. She had curves in all the right places and her outfit suited her perfectly. The white shirt showed just how busty she had become. She must have been 5’7", but she seemed so short with him being 6’1". His breath caught in his throat.
"You can let go of me now." Hermione squeaked. She knew if he did let go, she would fall to the ground. God, he makes me feel so weak, she thought to herself.
"What if I don't want to?" he breathed, tightening his hold on her. Draco didn't know what he was saying, or even why he was saying it, but it felt so right. Hermione was left speechless, but she didn't even have time to think, as his lips claimed hers. Too shocked to respond, Hermione stood motionless before the warmth from Draco's body flooded her veins and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He begged entrance, and Hermione was only too happy to comply. Slipping his tongue inside her mouth, he explored every inch, as if he'd never have the chance to hold this girl in his arms again. Faintly muffled voices rang from the hall: "He's this way, my Lord." Draco pulled back suddenly.
"Did I do something wrong?" Hermione asked anxiously, her face flushed and her lips bruised. Draco did all he could not to pull her against him again.
"No, but you have to hide now." He said seriously. "Voldemort's coming." Hearing Volemort's name made Hermione stiffened.
"Where?" she asked, looking around the room for the first time and noticing she was in a library. Almost every single wall was covered in books or pictures of what must be Draco's ancestors. The room was at least two stories high with ladders reaching the very top of the room. Hermione would have been elated under different circumstances.
"Hurry, underneath the couch." Draco said pushing her toward a black leather couch. "I don't know if I can fit under there." Hermione whispered, looking at the small space under the couch.
"You've got to try." Draco whispered back. Hermione sighed and got down on her stomach, sliding underneath. It was a tight squeeze, and Hermione could only just breathe. "Well, at least he won't find you." Draco said, more to himself as he walked to the front of the couch and sat down gently with a book. Hermione gasped as the extra pressure was added.
Just as Draco opened the book, the door unlocked and his father and Voldemort walked inside. He barely contained a look of utter disgust. He loathed his father. Lucius had been awarded a life sentence in Azkaban, but he had managed to weasel his way out. Draco glared at his father and stood, gesturing to a seat beside him. Lucius stood beside his master's chair, knowing to sit would make him an equal to Voldemort. Draco sat after Voldemort had settled in his chair.
"Draco, I have some good news." Voldemort smiled sickly. "You are to earn the Dark Mark. All I need is an offering of your loyalty." Hermione gasped as she heard this. The room fell silent and Hermione closed her eyes, waiting for the worst. Voldemort motioned to Lucius, who fell to his knees beside the couch and pushed it away from Hermione. Smirking, Voldemort locked eyes with Draco. "Her corpse should do quite nicely."
Draco bit his lip in hesitation but pulled Hermione off the floor and stood in front of her. He pulled out his wand slowly, trying to stall for time. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
"I can't afford to wait all day, Draco." Voldemort said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Just get it over with." Hermione waited, but nothing happened. "I see." Voldemort said after a weighted pause. "Lucius, I expect you will do what is fitting." Striding out, he left two Malfoy's and Hermione alone in the library.
"What's wrong with you, boy?" Lucius seethed his voice low and dangerous. "You've been given the opportunity of a lifetime, and you threw it away! And for what?" Lucius roughly pushed Hermione against the wall. "A piece of mudblood filth."
"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't want to be like you?" Draco spat, ignoring his father's biting words against Hermione.
"No." Lucius said simply, pulling out his wand. "Because I will make you like me whether you want to or not." Taking Draco's forearm in a rough grasp, he smirked. "Each Death Eater is allowed to bestow the Dark Mark onto only one other person. I've chosen you, Draco. Now, hold still." Lucius closed his eyes and started to mutter a spell. The tip of his wand was pressed against Draco's forearm and glowed red. Draco clenched his teeth together and waited, looking around the room. He was surprised to see Hermione still standing there, and as they locked eyes, he whispered, "No."
"What?" Lucius said, breaking his spell. "What did you say?"
"No."
Lucius, eyes flashed and his grip tightened. "Yes." Concentrating harder than before, the tip of his wand burned against Draco's forearm. The pain was unbearable. Draco fell to his knees, his body slumped and defeated, but when he looked up, his eyes met his reflection in the mirror. Is this what you want to be? It asked him. A pawn of evil? Taking orders from a ruined man? With a final burst of energy, Draco ripped his arm away from his father's grip and rolled backwards. Lucius took one step back in shock, before advancing in rage.
"How dare you." He spat. "How dare you defy me, your father, and how dare you defy the Dark Lord. A Malfoy has never resisted the Dark Mark." Lucius paused, a sick smile gracing his thin white lips. "And lived." With that last thought, he stormed out of the library. Hermione waited until his footsteps faded before rushing to Draco. He was lying on his back, clutching his arm.
"Are, are you all right?" She asked nervously.
"Does it look like I'm all right?" Draco hissed through clenched teeth. "I need to see a healer. Help me up, I need to get to the fireplace." Hermione barely aided Draco in standing, but grabbed two handfuls of Floo powder. Grasping onto Draco's shoulder, she tossed the powder into the fire, stepped inside, and yelled, "The Burrow!" The familiar spinning engulfed them and soon enough, the two tumbled out onto the carpet of the Weasley's living room.
"Hermione?" A familiar voice asked, sounding very surprised.
"Malfoy?!" Another voice asked in pure shock. Hermione stood up and smiled sheepishly.
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So what did ya think??? sorry about the cliffy. but it keeps readers interested and I promise not to take to long updating this time
lotz of love
*mermaidcuttie*
thanks Jamie for all the help!
Chapter 2: Mistaken Destination Tears threatened to spill from Harry's emerald green eyes as he whispered, "Hello Sirius."
Sirius Black nodded his head. "It's been awhile." The portrait looked so real that Harry felt as if Sirius was alive again. He had been painted with his same old unruly hair down to his shoulders, his black eyes gleaming with mischief just like Harry had remembered.
"It sure has." Harry spoke absently, looking into his godfathers eyes. Wiping away his tears, he glanced up at Hermione. "Where did you get this?" He asked, curious, confused, and elated all at once.
"Well after, you know, you started shutting yourself off from everyone, and I asked Dumbledore if there was a way for you to see him again. He said he didn't know, Everard suggested a portrait of Sirius. I was scared, Harry. I saw how hurt you were and it hurt me too." Harry took in a deep breathe. Great, I hurt her, he thought. I hurt my best friend and more importantly the girl I love. Why does it seem like I hurt everyone I know? Breaking apart Harry's reverie were Hermione's next words: "I was scared because I thought...I thought that you'd do something drastic."
Harry looked at his godfather. Running his hands along the frame, for he couldn't look Hermione in the eye, he whispered, "I wouldn't have done anything, Hermione." But even as his traitorous tongue said them, he knew those words were a lie. He had thought about just taking his life so he wouldn't have to deal with the shit in his life. So he'd get a break from all the pain. He'd always wished he could switch places with someone. Give them the gift that was his name, his identity, his life. Have someone else deal with the torture. How he would love to see someone like Draco Malfoy go through just one day in his 'wonderful' life. Harry had always believed that no one would understand him, or how he felt. How much he hated his life. But sometimes, there was just the nagging, "What if?"
Hermione sighed, crossing her arms across her chest. Harry looked up immediately, and was disturbed to find her look so sad. Hermione looked away, feeling suddenly cold. All she could remember were the dreams. The dreams that kept her awake night after sleepless night, the dreams that left her with a despairing emptiness. As she closed her eyes to stop the tears from coming, images flashed in her head. Harry hanging himself, cutting himself, falling, drowning, burning, each time he died. By now, the dreams had run together. They were an endless slur of heartache and pain.
"Hermione, are you okay?" Ron asked urgently as she fell to her knees and poured her heart out through her tears.
"Hermione?!" Both boys cried as they rushed to her side.
"H-Harry just, just promise me you w-won't hurt yourself I wo-wouldn't be able to handle it," she sobbed as she leaned up against Ron's chest, unable to look at Harry.
Harry choked; he couldn't get any words out. Ron made soothing noises, but all Hermione could do was cry. Ron met Harry's gaze, his eyes reflecting the pain of the girl in his arms. Harry couldn't take it. It's funny how I, the great Harry Potter, can face Voldemort and live but seeing the girl I love cry kills me. Harry thought. His throat was tight, words were slipping through his fingers, and his chest contracted painfully around his heart.
"Hermione, I won't do anything, I promise." Harry said finally. He tried to catch her gaze, but she wouldn't look at him.
"Please, Harry. Those nightmares are all I can think about sometimes."
"What nightmares?" Ron questioned, his tone concerned. Hermione sobbed harder, her mind whirling. Should I tell them? She asked herself, unable to stop her tears. I should, but what if they don't understand?
"I don't want to talk about it." She murmured, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. How could she have told them her tears were all because of Harry?
"You know you can trust us with anything, Hermione." Ron said comfortingly. Why don't they see it? He asked himself, looking between his two best friends. They're so in love, but they just can't see it.
Hermione looked up into Ron's eyes, searching his bright blue irises as if they held the answer she needed. Not finding it, she turned to face Harry, but as her chocolate brown orbs met his strikingly emerald ones, every dream she had ever had about Harry pounded behind her eyes, each one showing the boy who lived, the boy she loved, falling onto the ground, lifeless.
Harry concentrated on the visions. He held his breath as he came to one involving not only himself, but his enemy Draco Malfoy as well. Hermione was standing there next to a wall with what looked like two bundles in her arms watching as Harry fell to the floor. It was then that Malfoy drawled in his cold, familiar voice, "Believe it Potter. I love her and always will." Hermione ran to Malfoy's side, handing him a bundle and looking at him in a way that Harry dreamed she might look at him.
"It's true," She whispered, the wind pulling at her voice and whipping her hair around her face. "I love him, and he loves me" As Harry lay there on the ground, blood soaking into the dry, sandy earth, Hermione walked away with Draco Malfoy.
Everything went black and another dream came into view. Apparently Hermione wasn't crying over this one. It was late at night, Harry couldn't tell where, but Draco and Hermione were locked in a passionate embrace. Lip to lip, Harry watched as Draco's nimble fingers began to undo the buttons on Hermione's blouse. He quickly searched for a different dream, but the nightmare never came. The images from Hermione's head rewound in a blur of colors and Harry suddenly found himself back in the same room, standing a few feet before his two best friends, one comforting the other, who was in his arms, crying. Hermione was sobbing harder. Ron looked at Harry; he knew exactly what Harry had done. Ever since last year when Harry had learned how to use Legilimency he would invade people's thoughts to pull out snippets of information or truth. Ron had learned that he might as well tell Harry anything and everything because he could find out anyway. Harry snapped back to the present, his mind whirling. Malfoy. Hermione. Words and pictures and colors flashed before his eyes, but one lingered. The image of Hermione sleeping just as the two boys had arrived. She was so peaceful, so serene, and so genuinely beautiful. Harry thought, but another crossed his mind: that contented smile had been the effects of her dreams. Her dreams about Malfoy. Harry glared coldly down at the slumped figures on the floor.
Hermione could almost feel Harry's gaze upon her. Taking in gasps of air to try to calm down, Hermione felt a small pang of anger. How dare he do that without asking her first? She had said she didn't want to talk about, and she had meant it. Her dreams and thoughts were personal; if she had wanted Harry to know, he should have trusted her to tell him. Finally stopping the flow of tears, she looked up and met his emotionless green eyes.
"Harry I--" she began.
"We should get you to the Burrow" he cut her off, turning away to start gathering her bags. Hermione sighed and stood up, the bitter taste of anger filling her words.
"Why the hell did you do that!?!" Her voice was demanding and sharp.
Harry ignored her question. "Did you have that dream just last night?" Hermione nodded shyly.
Harry turned swiftly and headed for the door when Hermione found her voice. "Harry, it was only a dream..." She tried to explain, her feelings for Harry overcoming any rage. If she could only make things between them better, maybe he'd forget about that dream, Harry spun around.
"It was Malfoy, Hermione. Draco Malfoy!" Harry practically screamed.
"A dream. Just a dream." Hermione almost whispered, her voice soft and pleading.
"A dream is a wish your heart makes." Harry said glaring at her, his tone filled with disappointment and disgust. "Apparently, you've got a rather traitorous heart."
"I guess so, since it's betraying what I feel." Hermione laughed, a strange, cold sound. "I thought I loved you, Harry. I thought that you were all I could ever want and everything I'd ever need. But I guess my heart says otherwise." Harry stared at her, his mind vaguely telling him that the girl he loved reciprocated that feeling, but all he could see was the image of her pressed against Malfoy. "I guess I was wrong." Hermione's voice cracked through Harry's daydream. "I don't need you."
"Peas in a pod, darling." Harry said coldly. "I don't think I ever needed you. It was fun while it lasted." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "I don't think anyone could ever love you."
Hermione stared at Harry's retreating form until her vision was too blurred to see. She fell to the ground hard, her legs buckling beneath her. Ron knelt down next to her and tried to hold her, but she pushed him away. Harry turned around and looked through the door, locking eyes with Ron. "Too far." The red-head mouthed, before turning back to Hermione. Harry apparated with a small pop and appeared next to his bed at the Burrow. He tossed the portrait of his godfather onto the clean white sheets and sank to the floor. What's wrong with me? He thought frantically. I fancy her, don't I? Then why did I say that?
"Why did she dream of him?" Harry murmured miserably.
"Why did who dream of whom?" A familiar voice asked. Harry glanced up to meet the eyes of Fred and George Weasley.
"It's complicated." Harry said, trying to avoid any further questions. "I don't really want to talk about it."
"But now we really want to know." George said. The twins sat down on the floor next to Harry.
"You have to tell us, mate." Fred grinned. "Talking really helps sometimes, and George and I are excellent with advice on girls." Harry sighed, and began to explain.
"Malfoy, eh?" George whistled. "That's rough."
"On both of you." Fred interjected.
"Both of us?" Harry asked incredulously. "She seemed as if she were having an excellent time!" The two brothers looked at each other and sighed.
"Harry," George started.
"You have to understand, girls don't always like the right kind of guy." Fred shrugged. "She didn't choose to have that dream, mate."
"You should have heard her when she woke up." A slightly muffled voice added. Fred and George looked around suspiciously, before Harry pulled the portrait down. At the curious glances, Harry explained.
"Hermione gave it to me for my birthday." Harry looked down at his godfather. "What did she say when she woke up?"
"Well," Sirius started, looking almost eager. "She was crying, asking herself how she could be so selfish, so stupid, to leave you when you needed her." Harry looked away.
"See?" George said after a moment of silence. "It's not her fault. I think you owe someone a rather heartfelt apology." Harry sighed.
"I suppose you're right."
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...
Back at Hermione's House*
"Hermione, we should really get back to the Burrow." Ron said softly.
"But what about--"
"I don't care about Harry. I'm not leaving you here alone, and I should probably get back soon." Ron sighed. "He doesn't hate you, Hermione. Quite the contrary. He's just upset that you chose Malfoy over him, even if it was in a dream."
"Maybe he's right." Hermione said quietly, folding her last few items and placing them in her trunk. "Maybe no one needs me. Maybe no one could ever love me, either."
Ron ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "He does love you, Hermione. And he needs you more than either of you will ever know. But he's upset right now. Give it time."
"I don't want to, Ron." Hermione snapped her trunk shut and faced him, her almond eyes coldly indifferent. "I've given him all the time in the world and he wasted every second of it. If a simple dream can tear our friendship apart, it wasn't as strong as I had come to believe. He doesn't need me, he doesn't love me." Picking up her trunk, she walked out the door. "And more importantly, I don't love him."
Ron followed, carrying the other two bags and Crookshanks in his wicker basket. I tried, mate. I really did. He thought sullenly. The two walked in silence to the fireplace. Placing the bags on the floor to reach for some Floo powder, Ron asked, "Hermione, this won't change anything between the two if us, will it?"
"Of course not Ron!" Hermione said, taking a pinch of powder for herself and replacing the canister on her mantle. "You and I are just as close as ever."
"Good." Ron said with a smile. He stepped into the fireplace with all of Hermione's bags, dropped his powder, and yelled. "The Burrow!" And in an instant and a flash of purple light, he was gone. Hermione smiled slightly and stepped in after Ron. Taking a deep breath to say her destination, Hermione accidentally swallowed a mouthful of soot.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake." She muttered angrily, forgetting about her Floo powder and dropping it in an attempt to cover her face. Suddenly, the world around her started spinning. "Shit," she muttered closing her eyes tight. She wondered were the hell she was going to end up. God she hated Floo powder. The spinning slowly started to subside so Hermione threw her hands out in front of her, bracing herself for the fall, but the fall never came. Instead of colliding with the hard floor, she found herself in a pair of muscular arms. Being wrapped in that warm, strong embrace gave Hermione a feeling of complete safety, as if nothing could hurt her as long as she never left the person holding her.
"Are you lost, ma'am?" A familiar voice asked. Hermione was almost afraid to look up, but felt herself compelled to do so. Silver eyes sparked in recognition. "Why the hell are you in my house, Granger?" Draco demanded roughly, but found that as harsh as his words had been, his arms were incapable of releasing the girl he was holding.
"I didn't mean to come here... was going to the Burrow." Hermione started explaining meekly, more just filling silence and calming her nerves than actually informing him of her trip. Draco rolled his eyes and tried to remove his arms, but found he was quite paralyzed. Why can't I let go of her? He asked himself. Because she fits so perfectly, his conscience told him. Hermione was still talking as Draco looked down at her. She had curves in all the right places and her outfit suited her perfectly. The white shirt showed just how busty she had become. She must have been 5’7", but she seemed so short with him being 6’1". His breath caught in his throat.
"You can let go of me now." Hermione squeaked. She knew if he did let go, she would fall to the ground. God, he makes me feel so weak, she thought to herself.
"What if I don't want to?" he breathed, tightening his hold on her. Draco didn't know what he was saying, or even why he was saying it, but it felt so right. Hermione was left speechless, but she didn't even have time to think, as his lips claimed hers. Too shocked to respond, Hermione stood motionless before the warmth from Draco's body flooded her veins and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He begged entrance, and Hermione was only too happy to comply. Slipping his tongue inside her mouth, he explored every inch, as if he'd never have the chance to hold this girl in his arms again. Faintly muffled voices rang from the hall: "He's this way, my Lord." Draco pulled back suddenly.
"Did I do something wrong?" Hermione asked anxiously, her face flushed and her lips bruised. Draco did all he could not to pull her against him again.
"No, but you have to hide now." He said seriously. "Voldemort's coming." Hearing Volemort's name made Hermione stiffened.
"Where?" she asked, looking around the room for the first time and noticing she was in a library. Almost every single wall was covered in books or pictures of what must be Draco's ancestors. The room was at least two stories high with ladders reaching the very top of the room. Hermione would have been elated under different circumstances.
"Hurry, underneath the couch." Draco said pushing her toward a black leather couch. "I don't know if I can fit under there." Hermione whispered, looking at the small space under the couch.
"You've got to try." Draco whispered back. Hermione sighed and got down on her stomach, sliding underneath. It was a tight squeeze, and Hermione could only just breathe. "Well, at least he won't find you." Draco said, more to himself as he walked to the front of the couch and sat down gently with a book. Hermione gasped as the extra pressure was added.
Just as Draco opened the book, the door unlocked and his father and Voldemort walked inside. He barely contained a look of utter disgust. He loathed his father. Lucius had been awarded a life sentence in Azkaban, but he had managed to weasel his way out. Draco glared at his father and stood, gesturing to a seat beside him. Lucius stood beside his master's chair, knowing to sit would make him an equal to Voldemort. Draco sat after Voldemort had settled in his chair.
"Draco, I have some good news." Voldemort smiled sickly. "You are to earn the Dark Mark. All I need is an offering of your loyalty." Hermione gasped as she heard this. The room fell silent and Hermione closed her eyes, waiting for the worst. Voldemort motioned to Lucius, who fell to his knees beside the couch and pushed it away from Hermione. Smirking, Voldemort locked eyes with Draco. "Her corpse should do quite nicely."
Draco bit his lip in hesitation but pulled Hermione off the floor and stood in front of her. He pulled out his wand slowly, trying to stall for time. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath.
"I can't afford to wait all day, Draco." Voldemort said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Just get it over with." Hermione waited, but nothing happened. "I see." Voldemort said after a weighted pause. "Lucius, I expect you will do what is fitting." Striding out, he left two Malfoy's and Hermione alone in the library.
"What's wrong with you, boy?" Lucius seethed his voice low and dangerous. "You've been given the opportunity of a lifetime, and you threw it away! And for what?" Lucius roughly pushed Hermione against the wall. "A piece of mudblood filth."
"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't want to be like you?" Draco spat, ignoring his father's biting words against Hermione.
"No." Lucius said simply, pulling out his wand. "Because I will make you like me whether you want to or not." Taking Draco's forearm in a rough grasp, he smirked. "Each Death Eater is allowed to bestow the Dark Mark onto only one other person. I've chosen you, Draco. Now, hold still." Lucius closed his eyes and started to mutter a spell. The tip of his wand was pressed against Draco's forearm and glowed red. Draco clenched his teeth together and waited, looking around the room. He was surprised to see Hermione still standing there, and as they locked eyes, he whispered, "No."
"What?" Lucius said, breaking his spell. "What did you say?"
"No."
Lucius, eyes flashed and his grip tightened. "Yes." Concentrating harder than before, the tip of his wand burned against Draco's forearm. The pain was unbearable. Draco fell to his knees, his body slumped and defeated, but when he looked up, his eyes met his reflection in the mirror. Is this what you want to be? It asked him. A pawn of evil? Taking orders from a ruined man? With a final burst of energy, Draco ripped his arm away from his father's grip and rolled backwards. Lucius took one step back in shock, before advancing in rage.
"How dare you." He spat. "How dare you defy me, your father, and how dare you defy the Dark Lord. A Malfoy has never resisted the Dark Mark." Lucius paused, a sick smile gracing his thin white lips. "And lived." With that last thought, he stormed out of the library. Hermione waited until his footsteps faded before rushing to Draco. He was lying on his back, clutching his arm.
"Are, are you all right?" She asked nervously.
"Does it look like I'm all right?" Draco hissed through clenched teeth. "I need to see a healer. Help me up, I need to get to the fireplace." Hermione barely aided Draco in standing, but grabbed two handfuls of Floo powder. Grasping onto Draco's shoulder, she tossed the powder into the fire, stepped inside, and yelled, "The Burrow!" The familiar spinning engulfed them and soon enough, the two tumbled out onto the carpet of the Weasley's living room.
"Hermione?" A familiar voice asked, sounding very surprised.
"Malfoy?!" Another voice asked in pure shock. Hermione stood up and smiled sheepishly.
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So what did ya think??? sorry about the cliffy. but it keeps readers interested and I promise not to take to long updating this time
lotz of love
*mermaidcuttie*