Disclaimer: I own the plot.
A/N: Here ya go. Sorry it took so long. But I think this is it. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. You are the greatest. Seriously, I can't thank you guys enough. I'll probably start a new fic really soon, once I get some sleep. So if you're interested, just check my profile on once and a while. Tell me if you can think of any good fic ideas, as well. Thanks again, so much, for everything. Much love.
Anyone who was aimlessly walking in a certain corridor in a certain castle on a certain sunny afternoon would nearly get trampled over. Even if they were just minding their own business, going for a stroll. The tempo of the hallway itself was terrifying, negativity swirling everywhere in thick clouds. One could tell that magick had been performed, and that the incantation ended in a bloody and tragic manner.
One just could sense these things.
These imaginary, strolling people would also happen to glance at the platinum blonde ball of light rush past them in the ungodly speed. It looked odd and out of place, but they wouldn't question it.
That was why no one treaded in that certain section of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on that day: the atmosphere was probably too dangerously unstable.
However, that "platinum blonde ball of light" wasn't a ball of light at all. It was a boy, sixteen years of age to be exact, and that boy was in a rush to get somewhere.
That boy had a name, though. His name was a strong one, full of power and supremacy. His name actually meant "dragon", and the name fit the boy well.
His name was Draco.
Now Draco was terrified: more alarmed than he had ever been. He had just recently, within a few seconds before now, witnessed a terrible scene.
Ron Weasley had just passed him as Draco was walking down the main staircase in the school. Ron's brief company wouldn't have bothered Draco if he hadn't said anything...If he hadn't whispered haunting words into his ear.
Those words...Draco promised himself he would remember them forever...Remember her forever.
"She's gone."
At this point, Ron laughed as he leisurely walked down the steps. He seemed disturbingly carefree. The look on his face sent shivers up Draco's spine.
Ron turned a corner, still chuckling to himself. Draco ran.
He had never run faster in his life. Never. He hoped he would never have to run that fast again. Down a corridor, left, right, left again. Up a staircase. Down another gloomy hall. They all looked the same...
Draco cast out his senses, searching for Hermione in the castle. He picked up speed as he sensed her presence somewhere on the floor above him.
But, a bloodcurdling thought raced through his mind.
'Granger's dead.'
He could feel himself reaching close to hyperventilation. He had been running for hours...for days...He was moving too fast; this was abnormal. He never ran. Even Quidditch just involved sitting on a stick. No running was involved. Draco was terribly out of shape.
His calf muscles burned, and his lungs were seizing up. He couldn't breathe. It hurt to exhale. But, Draco kept moving, never faulting his pace.
It was hell. He couldn't inhale anymore. That would just make it ten times harder to breathe out.
Draco flew through a large door, and on the other side, he saw Hermione: drenched in her own blood. Draco nearly recoiled from the simple sight of her. He slowed his pace as he felt his body become silent. He couldn't feel his heart beating anymore. Draco didn't feel the need to breathe right then. His body felt eloquently tranquil.
Just then, it all came flooding back, the reason for his arrival in that certain dreadfully looking corridor in the blasted palace that he called home.
Draco's lungs flooded with air, his head pounded mercilessly, and he almost fainted. Breathing heavily and realizing that the feeling was coming back into his body was a different story. It was like nothing Draco had ever experienced. He felt as if pins and needles were encasing him.
Ignoring the shooting spikes of pain firing through his body, Draco approached her.
Hermione Granger, in a way, contrasted to her surroundings. The girl, herself, looked dreadfully pale. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were pink. Apart from the fact that she was practically swimming in gore, she looked peaceful.
'She shouldn't be here,' Draco thought bitterly. He thought he would start crying. 'She doesn't belong in this scene. Hermione belongs in a dream. This is a nightmare.'
Draco instantly noticed that there was a large, gaping wound in her center, and a blood-spattered dagger was on the stone floor.
Draco swallowed. It was sickening, grotesquely obscene.
"Ron wasn't in his right mind, Hermione. Forgive him," Draco whispered.
The young, 16-year old bookworm of a Gryfinndor looked beautifully...dead. Draco shuddered as he held her corpse. He missed her already. Draco could feel an invisible wound forming in his own chest. He knew it would never heal...his first love...his only love... 'But why Hermione?'
"I'll always love you, my dear," Draco started crying, "I'll never forget you, Hermione." And with that, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.
The notorious and all-powerful Draco Malfoy had been defeated by nothing other than love itself.
A/N: Here ya go. Sorry it took so long. But I think this is it. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. You are the greatest. Seriously, I can't thank you guys enough. I'll probably start a new fic really soon, once I get some sleep. So if you're interested, just check my profile on once and a while. Tell me if you can think of any good fic ideas, as well. Thanks again, so much, for everything. Much love.
Anyone who was aimlessly walking in a certain corridor in a certain castle on a certain sunny afternoon would nearly get trampled over. Even if they were just minding their own business, going for a stroll. The tempo of the hallway itself was terrifying, negativity swirling everywhere in thick clouds. One could tell that magick had been performed, and that the incantation ended in a bloody and tragic manner.
One just could sense these things.
These imaginary, strolling people would also happen to glance at the platinum blonde ball of light rush past them in the ungodly speed. It looked odd and out of place, but they wouldn't question it.
That was why no one treaded in that certain section of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on that day: the atmosphere was probably too dangerously unstable.
However, that "platinum blonde ball of light" wasn't a ball of light at all. It was a boy, sixteen years of age to be exact, and that boy was in a rush to get somewhere.
That boy had a name, though. His name was a strong one, full of power and supremacy. His name actually meant "dragon", and the name fit the boy well.
His name was Draco.
Now Draco was terrified: more alarmed than he had ever been. He had just recently, within a few seconds before now, witnessed a terrible scene.
Ron Weasley had just passed him as Draco was walking down the main staircase in the school. Ron's brief company wouldn't have bothered Draco if he hadn't said anything...If he hadn't whispered haunting words into his ear.
Those words...Draco promised himself he would remember them forever...Remember her forever.
"She's gone."
At this point, Ron laughed as he leisurely walked down the steps. He seemed disturbingly carefree. The look on his face sent shivers up Draco's spine.
Ron turned a corner, still chuckling to himself. Draco ran.
He had never run faster in his life. Never. He hoped he would never have to run that fast again. Down a corridor, left, right, left again. Up a staircase. Down another gloomy hall. They all looked the same...
Draco cast out his senses, searching for Hermione in the castle. He picked up speed as he sensed her presence somewhere on the floor above him.
But, a bloodcurdling thought raced through his mind.
'Granger's dead.'
He could feel himself reaching close to hyperventilation. He had been running for hours...for days...He was moving too fast; this was abnormal. He never ran. Even Quidditch just involved sitting on a stick. No running was involved. Draco was terribly out of shape.
His calf muscles burned, and his lungs were seizing up. He couldn't breathe. It hurt to exhale. But, Draco kept moving, never faulting his pace.
It was hell. He couldn't inhale anymore. That would just make it ten times harder to breathe out.
Draco flew through a large door, and on the other side, he saw Hermione: drenched in her own blood. Draco nearly recoiled from the simple sight of her. He slowed his pace as he felt his body become silent. He couldn't feel his heart beating anymore. Draco didn't feel the need to breathe right then. His body felt eloquently tranquil.
Just then, it all came flooding back, the reason for his arrival in that certain dreadfully looking corridor in the blasted palace that he called home.
Draco's lungs flooded with air, his head pounded mercilessly, and he almost fainted. Breathing heavily and realizing that the feeling was coming back into his body was a different story. It was like nothing Draco had ever experienced. He felt as if pins and needles were encasing him.
Ignoring the shooting spikes of pain firing through his body, Draco approached her.
Hermione Granger, in a way, contrasted to her surroundings. The girl, herself, looked dreadfully pale. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were pink. Apart from the fact that she was practically swimming in gore, she looked peaceful.
'She shouldn't be here,' Draco thought bitterly. He thought he would start crying. 'She doesn't belong in this scene. Hermione belongs in a dream. This is a nightmare.'
Draco instantly noticed that there was a large, gaping wound in her center, and a blood-spattered dagger was on the stone floor.
Draco swallowed. It was sickening, grotesquely obscene.
"Ron wasn't in his right mind, Hermione. Forgive him," Draco whispered.
The young, 16-year old bookworm of a Gryfinndor looked beautifully...dead. Draco shuddered as he held her corpse. He missed her already. Draco could feel an invisible wound forming in his own chest. He knew it would never heal...his first love...his only love... 'But why Hermione?'
"I'll always love you, my dear," Draco started crying, "I'll never forget you, Hermione." And with that, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.
The notorious and all-powerful Draco Malfoy had been defeated by nothing other than love itself.