Title: We Pay The Price

Author: Roslyn Drycof

Chapter: Three---Numb

Pairing: Harry/Draco, (others will be revealed later)

Rating: PG-13

Warning: slash, swearing, violence, angst, slight tragedy (no death of major characters, don't worry)

Summary: Children always have to pay the price for war and sometimes that cost is too much. Harry's spiralling out of control and taking Malfoy with him. Can his friends save him or will they too end up paying the price of war? Slash, angst, HPDM, and others

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and anything related to Harry Potter and Co. are not mine.

"You shouldn't have stopped wearing all those lovely outfits," an oily voice whispered in Pansy Parkinson's ear.

Dread curling in her stomach, she turned to look into the face of the one person she hated the most. . .and feared the most. Theodore Nott stood beside her chair, a lecherous grin on his tanned face.

She clenched her fists and hissed, "You know why I stopped."

Nott raised an eyebrow, a lust-filled gleam in his dark brown eyes. "All I did was show you a good time. Why are you overreacting?"

Memories, awful memories, flew through her mind and it was all she could do not to cringe and show just how much she feared him. "Overreacting? You fucking raped me, you bastard. I don't call that a good time!"

"It's not like you were innocent. You could've enjoyed it if you'd wanted to."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You raped me in front of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and my father. You think I'd have enjoyed that? And with you?"

"You bitch! I'd have thought a slut like you would've been happy for a piece of arse." A malicious glint had appeared in his hard eyes.

Pansy swallowed harshly. "A slut like me? I'll have you know I was only with one person before you raped me."

"Who? Drakie-poo?" Nott sneered.

"No. I happened to have a nice relationship with Blaise last year."

"That wimp? You really are the base bitch I thought you were."

"I am not a bitch!" she screamed, causing the entire Slytherin common room to stare at them, curiousity burning in their eyes.

Nott saw the glances their way and mentally cursed. He couldn't afford to cause any scenes or his position as a Death Eater was threatened. If that fool Dumbledore found out he was a spy. . .there'd be hell to pay.

Before striding away, he leaned closer to his year-mate and whispered, "Better not get too complacent. I'll be back for another round. . ."

She shuddered, staring at his departing figure with fear swimming in her stomach. Another round? No! That couldn't happen!

"Pansy, what was that all about?" Draco Malfoy asked her a few minutes later, worried about her pale face and the fear-filled look in her blue eyes.

Seeing him, she narrowed her eyes and stood up. "None of your business."

The Slytherin Ice Prince was taken aback by the pure anger in her normally soft voice. What had happened between her and Nott for her to snap like this?

She stalked off, leaving Draco to stare at her retreating back with a mixture of worry and puzzlement churning in his mind.

That night, Harry Potter had a hard time falling asleep. Something was nagging him, and his scar was burning slightly. Voldemort was up to something, and he had a feeling it wasn't good. But then again, it never was.

Finally, after three hours of tossing and turning, he drifted off to sleep, only to be catapulted into a situation he always dreaded. He hated having visions of Voldemort, which he seemed to be having less often, but more terrible. Curse Snape for cutting off their Occulmency lessons!

It's dark, and he was standing in a muggle home. It was an ordinary house, well-lived in and full of memory. A happy house.

But now it wasn't happy. There were Death Eaters ringed around the room, the living room it seems, and two muggle adults were shaking in fear at what was happening. Odd, but they seemed to know exactly who'd broken into their home.

"Please leave us alone! This'll hurt our daughter too much!" the muggle man cried out, his soft brown eyes pleading with him.

Harry, as Voldemort, said, "Precisely. You didn't think we chose you at random?"

Harry felt dread crashing through him. Their daughter went to Hogwarts. . .and they looked so familiar. Who were they?!

"She hasn't done anything to you!" the muggle woman said, hopelessness in her melodious voice.

Harry knew that voice. It was the voice of. . .oh no! Not Hermione's mother! And father!

"She has done much to hinder my plans, the stupid mudblood. And your deaths with hurt her, which will hurt the Potter boy."

Harry felt rage course through him as he heard Voldemort's ugly voice say those things. How dare he hurt Hermione to get to him!

Suddenly, Harry was catapulted out of Voldemort's mind to view the scene from a sort of omniprescent view. Voldemort looked up and there was a malicious gleam of pleasure in his red eyes.

"How nice of you to join us, Potter. Care to see what happens to these poor, innocent muggles?"

Harry screamed in fury at the mocking tone in that monster's voice. "Damn you!"

"Already been done, dear boy."

Voldemort then turned to face Hermione's parents again. He motioned for two figures beside him to step forward. Harry knew them. It was Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. He knew by how they stood, the way they obeyed their Dark Lord instantly, and with pride. They were two Death Eaters used to much privilege, favored minions.

"Torture them and kill them. Take however long you want," Lord Voldemort commanded, malevolent glee twisting his words.

Hermione's mother and father stood huddled together, fear and despair in their usually kindly eyes. Harry wanted to scream at the look on their faces. It wasn't fair!

Lucius Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it towards Mr. Granger. His whispered word seemed to blare through the silent room. "Crucio

Hermione's father jerked instantly, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. Harry knew how much it hurt, how terrible it was, and he shuddered in sympathy.

Bellatrix raised her arm next, pointed it at the now-crying Mrs. Granger. She didn't whisper the curse, but shouted it proudly and with pleasure. "Crucio

"No!" Harry screamed, his heart breaking at the sight of Hermione's parents twitching and jerking in unimaginable pain.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Voldemort hissed softly, knowing what it would do to the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry roared, staring hopelessly at the scene in front of him. Lucius and Bellatrix were opening their mouths to speak the killing curse in unison. And Harry couldn't do anything but watch helplessly as the two worst words in the wizarding world were spoken with relish. "Avada Kedavra

"No! Not to them!"

Green light exploded from the wands of the two Death Eaters, racing towards Mr. and Mrs. Granger at the speed of light. And then Hermione's parents were dead, their eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling.

"Sweet dreams. . ." Voldemort whispered and then Harry was ripped from the scene.

He jerked awake, his chest heaving and tears spilling down his cheeks. Hands were gripping his shoulders, and he looked up into the face of Ron Weasley. His best friend.

Ron looked horror-stricken, a sickening realization growing in his eyes. "You screamed. It woke me up. Please say it wasn't a vision. Please!"

Harry stared at his friend and took a shuddering breath. "I can't. He. . .killed them."

"Who?!" the redhead yelled, terrified he already knew.

"Hermione's parents," Harry whispered, looking away.

Ron reeled back, disbelief written clearly on his freckled features. "You're lying. They're not dead! They're not!"

Finally, everything about this night got to Harry and he snapped. He jumped out of bed and glared at Ron. "They are. I saw them be tortured and killed before my very eyes, and there was nothing I could do to save them."

He stormed out the dormitory room, going down to the common room and throwing himself onto a red couch. The vision kept replaying in his mind, haunting him and taunting him.

Hermione would be devastated. Her parents, the two poeple whom she loved most in the world, dead? It would hit her hard. . .so hard.

Harry heard footsteps coming down the corridor from the boy's dormitories and knew it was Ron.

"This is going to kill her," the next-to-youngest-Weasley murmured, dropping into the chair that sat beside Harry' couch.

They didn't say anything else, just sat there through the night. Neither wanted morning to come, when they knew Hermione would find out. It would be hell, utter hell.

Around seven o'clock, a familiar figure came down the stairs that led to the girls' dormitories. It was Hermione. When she saw her friends sitting in the common room, a frown furrowed her eyebrows.

"What are you doing down here this early? Or this late, I should say," she asked, noticing that they were still in their pyjamas. Neither looked like they'd had much sleep.

Ron bit his lip and looked away from his girlfriend. Harry shut his eyes, a pained expression on his face. It was the most real emotion she'd seen in him in weeks. And for that emotion to be one pain and sorrow, that wasn't good. Something had to be terrible wrong.

"Ron? Harry?"

After a few moments, Harry stood up and touched a hand to his scar. Hermione knew what that meant. He'd had a vision. But what had he seen that was so bad?

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Voldemort killed two muggles last night. They. . .they were your parents."

Hermione froze, his words resounded over and over again in her mind. They were your parents. . .they were your parents.

"No! I don't believe you!" she cried out, tears shining in her chestnut eyes.

But she knew it was true when she saw his emerald eyes. They were shadowed by pain, glittering with unshed tears. And she knew. They were gone.

Her breathing hitched and she felt her world going blurry as tears spilled from her eyes. Her head was pounding, and memories of her parents' smiling faces flashed through her mind. She collapsed to the ground, her arms wrapped around herself.

She stayed like that for a long time, until her aching heart had become numb and dead. Until all her tears were dried up and all she could do was stare ahead of her with a blank look in her eyes.

The Headmaster made the announcement at breakfast, two hours later. The Golden Trio sat at the Gryffindor table, both boys flanking Hermione protectively. She didn't eat or talk, simply staring straight ahead. Her eyes had lost their gleam, their life.

The entire Great Hall was subdued that day, even the Slytherins. Especially the Slytherins. Although they didn't like her for being a Gryffindor and a mudblood, they knew what it was like to lose someone close to them. They knew how it felt to have something special ripped away from them. And they knew she'd be forever changed.

Hermione finally spoke when breakfast ended. Her voice dull and hoarse, she told her friends, "I'm going to Hogsmeade alone today."

Ron was shocked. "You're still going?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And why shouldn't I? There's things I need to get."

"But you're parents. . ." He stopped himself before he said the dreaded word.

The brunette seemed unconcerned. "That doesn't mean I should forget about my own needs. I'm going, and I won't let you pursuade me otherwise."

He sputtered, his eyes wide and disbelieving at her behavior.

Harry had been watching their interaction closely, and knew Hermione was going to be okay. She would live on, albeit changed from her earlier self, but in no danger of becoming unhinged with grief. He knew because he'd acted the same exact way when Sirius had died.

"It's good you're getting out, 'Mione," he told her.

She jerked her head in a quick motion in response. Smart Hermione knew his hidden meaning behind those innocuous words.

Ron simply looked outraged that Harry had taken her side. Had they both gone mental? He stared in amazement as Hermione stood up and strode away, an emotionless mask on her face. And he couldn't help but think. . .That mask certainly looks a lot like Harry's. . .

Five hours later, Ron and Harry sat at a table the Hog's Head. Ron had protested going to such a disreputable tavern, but Harry had been adamant. He'd said that he wasn't in the mood for such an insipid atmosphere and weak drinks. This had puzzled his friend, but Ron was just glad to be spending time with him. Harry had been deserting them a lot lately, and any time with him had become special.

"Does 'Mione know where to meet us?" Ron asked, worried.

The raven-haired boy nodded, taking a sip of his firewhiskey. Usually, firewhiskey was illegal to under-aged wizards, but this was the Boy-Who-Lived we're talking about. The bartender was a friendly sort and wasn't averse to obliging the young celebrity.

"She knows." Of course, she knew no such thing. But Harry had to placate his friend and knew Hermione would show up there anyway. Hadn't he become fond of a bit of firewhiskey every now and then to dull the pain?

"Potter, didn't know you were the sort to drown your sorrows in a bottle of alcohol," an arrogant voice sneered.

Harry suppressed a grin as he turned to look at who was intruding on him and Ron. Draco Malfoy stood there, a smirk on his face and a familiar gleam in his eyes.

"Hello, Malfoy. Care to join us?"

Ron spluttered, staring wide-eyed at his best friend. Join them? Had Harry gone off the deep end?

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Who, me? You know I wouldn't lower myself to sitting with a Weasley."

Harry didn't take offense at the comment. This was just play-acting, with run of the mill insults being traded. They didn't mean anything.

"Hmm. I rather think you're afraid of dirtying your reputation by sitting with the Boy-Who-Lived-to-kick-Death-Eater-arse."

A laugh was torn from Draco's throat. "Nice one, Potter. Did you come with that all on your own?"

Harry was about to reply, when a girl came up behind the Slytherin and snapped, "Shove off, Malfoy. Don't you have something better to do, like fuck one of your whores, instead of bothering Harry?"

Three pairs of eyes stared at the girl in stunned surprise. Hermione Granger stood there with her hands on her hips and a glare in her eyes. At first, they didn't recognize her, she'd changed so much. But no one could deny that that was her voice, or her bossy stance.

Draco remembered third year, when she'd taken her first stand against him. Her fist connecting with his face had hurt like hell. And the black eye that had appeared because of it. . .well, it hadn't gone away until after a week later.

She looked like that now, anger flaring in her brown eyes. Except, she was also different. She'd cut her hair and added big, chunky blonde highlights to it. She was wearing make up, which included eyeliner and purple eyeshadow, blush, and lipgloss that made her lips look full and pouty. Her skirt was now several inches shorter, she'd unbuttoned the top three buttons of her shirt to show some cleavage, and she had two more ear piercings in each ear.

"'Mione?" Ron squeaked, shocked at her new appearance.

"Shut your mouth. Are you trying to catch flies with it open like that?" she said to him, crossing her arms across her chest. It pushed her breasts up nicely.

A flush spread across his face and he snapped his mouth shut.

Harry looked her over, liking the new look immensely. It had personality, and it suited her. "I'm liking the look, 'Mione."

She smirked. "Of course you would. It's right down your alley."

"Well. I guess I can't you a bookish prude anymore, Granger. If you continue to look like this, you'll have guys beating on the portrait to Gryffndor Tower," Malfoy spoke, looking at her with something akin to respect in his silver eyes.

Hermione took this as the compliment it was. "Although, you won't be one of them."

A smirk twisted his lips. "Of course. You're not my type."

She knew what he meant by "type". It was no secret that he preferred guys to girls. Harry would be more his type that her, even with them being hated enemies and all.

He strode away then, heading towards the booth Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were sitting at drinking firewhiskey.

A few moments later, Hermione slid into the booth beside Harry and asked, "So, what's a girl got to do to get a firewhiskey around here?"

-She's running

and she can't get away;

she has nowhere to stay.

-She's screaming inside,

she can't let the pain out.

It's tearing her up inside,

and there's nothing she can do.

-She's on the outside

looking in on the inside.

She's been rejected,

there's no place to go.

-She's doesn't know why

she can never find home.

She's lost,

she wants to find home.

-She's running

and she can't get away;

she had nowhere to stay.

She's Running ; by N.M.C. (me)

Chapter Three is up! It took me four hours to write, not including the half hour the power went out. Unfortunately, I live in Western PA and we got 5.95 inches of rain two days ago as the remnants of Hurrican Ivan. So many places in my area flooded, although my street was lucky and only half my basement flooded a few inches. Hundreds of other people lost their homes and businesses. One man even lost his life. It's horrible. You can see pictures at the website of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, and they are terrible.

Well, because I am a devoted fanfic writer, I got this chapter up and written even though I'm still in shock over how bad the flooding was. Four dams in the area went. Four! And if the Canonsburg dam had gone, Bridgeville would be gone. Luckily it didn't, but it was close. Scary.

I hope you like this chapter and I really want to thank the people who've reviewed my story so far, even though there aren't a lot of them. That just makes the people who did review all the more special. Thanks a million! Please review this chapter, too!

Music I listened to while writing: Shinedown, Spineshank, and Sugarcult.

Roslyn Drycof.