Chapter 14 – One By One.

"What am I gonna do now, Hermione?" Draco said softly. It was late at night and they were sitting by the stairs again, waiting for Filch and his ugly kitty to come find them.

"I don't know. You could try talking to him," Hermione suggested, her head resting on his chest.

"Voldermort isn't someone you could just strike a conversation with, you know," Draco said. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes.

"I'm out of ideas. You have to do something, Draco. Voldermort is going to find out that you don't want to be his follower, and he's going to…you know…" Hermione whispered.

"He won't. I'll fight him."

"Don't try and act tough Draco, this is Voldermort we're talking about. And I don't want you to get hurt," Hermione said.

"So you're saying I'm weak, then?" Draco raised his voice.

Hermione sighed. "No, Draco, it's not like that… it's just that… for God's sake, Draco, do you know who Voldermort is? How can you even think of defeating him?"

"I can try," Draco said.

"You won't make it," Hermione concluded.

"What's going on out he – Hermione? DRACO?"

Hermione and Draco turned around to see an angry Ron.

"Ron, I can explain," Hermione started quickly.

"No, no need for any explanations. I know exactly what this is," Ron snapped. "You're back, aren't you? And the first person you told was Draco. Somehow I don't feel one bit happy that you're back. Not at all! It's obvious you don't care about me. So I won't care about you either. We're done, Hermione. It's over." With that, Ron turned around and stormed his way back into the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione sat there, her jaw wide open.

"You okay?" Draco asked.

Hermione didn't reply.

"Ron is such a fool," Draco sniggered.

Hermione didn't move a muscle.

"What a loser."

Silence.

"Hermione?"

Nothing.

"Hermione, remember to give me a dripping wet lap dance in the library tomorrow night, okay?"

Nada.

"Can I have your parent's money?"

"Uh…" Hermione finally replied. "I don't know… no."

"Okay," Draco replied. "But the lap dance is still on eh?"

"Huh?" Hermione said, confused.

"Forget it."

"Did Ron just.. dump me?"

"Um, yeah, looked like it. It had to happen anyway, right? It was time you stopped keeping us a secret," Draco said calmly.

"So this is how it feels like to be dumped…" Hermione said softly.

Draco yawned. "It's getting late, baby, I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow morning." He gave her a peck on the cheek and turned around.

"Love you, Mione."

"Yeah, I love you too."

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Draco woke up the next morning feeling a sharp pain on his arm. He yelped and rolled his sleeve up. The dark mark was bleeding again, even worse than it had the other night. He got out of his bed to see his covers and his whole shirt soaked in his blood.

No, Draco thought. This can't be happening. Not again.

He looked around his room. Everyone had gone down for breakfast, as he had overslept again. He searched around the room for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. And that's when he saw a pen knife.

Yes, he thought. I could use that.

He wrapped his fingers around the blade. Crabbe always used it to open the occasional letters and candy parcels his mother sends him. The knife was so small in his hand, stiff and cold. He shivered as he lifted it to his arm's length.

I'm gonna do it. I'm going to end this once and for all.

And he pressed the knife firmly against his skin. Wincing, he pushed it in deeper, screaming the more and more he went in. He didn't dare open his eyes, afraid to see his flesh hanging out. Finally he reached the end of the black imprinted mark, and turned the knife upwards to take off that piece of his flesh. He opened his eyes, tears falling from the terrible pain, and realized he hadn't prepared his surgery well. He had forgotten to get a pail of water and cloth to damp the blood, so he was running round the room like a dumb bleeding ferret.

Draco rushed to the nearest bathroom and turned on the hot water, grabbing a ragged cloth. He dapped his wound, trying not to scream as excruciating pain seared through his body. He examined his arm, looking at his inner flesh. It was nothing he had seen before – pink with veins, covered in blood. It looked like delicious strawberry ice cream, if you didn't count the horrible stench of raw meat or the dark blue veins wired around, cut in half.

He was too weak to clean up the mess he made. He picked up the dirty pail of hot water and blood-soaked cloth, heading back to his room. There were no bandages around, so he tore a piece of his bed sheet and wrapped it around his arm. He sighed and decided to rest, closing his eyes. The pain would just have to wait till he woke up.

Draco opened his eyes weakly, feeling pain surge through his arm. He looked at the bed sheet wrapped around it, blood all over the floor, and turned around. He let out a soft yelp of surprise when he saw Hermione sitting on the chair by his bed, weeping silently. Her eyes were red and it looked like she had been crying all afternoon.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Draco asked.

"What have you done?" Hermione said softly.

"What time is it?" Draco asked.

"I said, what have you done?" Hermione repeated angrily.

Draco sighed. "I needed to stop it, Hermione. I cut it off."

"Do you know what's going to happen now!" Hermione said.

"No, what? Hermione, why are you crying? I cut it off, be happy!" Draco pleaded.

"He knows," Hermione whispered, as if she was afraid anyone would here. Draco looked around the empty room.

"Knows what, Mione? And who is he?" Draco asked impatiently.

"Voldermort," Hermione whispered. "He knows you cut it off, and he knows you did it for me. He knows it, that's why h-he.."

"What is it, Hermione? What did he do?"

"He killed my parents, Draco."

Draco stared at her, waiting for her to jump all of a sudden and say 'Gotcha!'. But she didn't. She just sat there, weeping solemnly, a blank look on her face, like life had been sucked out of her.

"I just got the news. They were murdered last night. Even before Dumbledore could tell them the news about my return," Hermione bawled.

"I-I didn't know, Hermione. I'm so sorry… It's all my fault," Draco whispered.

"You're damn right it is! I loved them so much, Draco, and now they're gone! I was looking forward to seeing them this summer, but now when I go home, there's nobody left for me to see…"

Draco reached out to take her hand, but she jerked back.

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

"Hermione…"

"No! You've done enough to me, Draco. Leave me alone."

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He didn't know whether Hermione stayed or not, because he found himself falling back into deep slumber. He could hear Hermione's voice in a distance, whispering something, but he couldn't make the words out.

"What did you say?" Draco asked. He knew he was dreaming, but somehow the presence of Hermione there felt so real.

Hermione mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

Isho ya phoed.

"What?"

Is oh ya phoelt.

"I can't hear you, Hermione. Speak louder."

This is all your fault.

Suddenly Hermione grinned at him eerily, as if she had turned evil.

"This is what traitors get, my boy," Hermione spoke in a manly, familiar voice. "I know you love her. So I'm going to kill her."

Why is that voice so familiar? Draco wondered. Then he remembered.

"You," Draco whispered angrily.

"Yes, me. Just say my name, V-o-l-d-e-r-m-o-r-t. It's as easy as A B C," he grinned wickedly.

"Why did you do it? Hermione's parents had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all! They were innocent people, and one of them even was a muggle!" Draco yelled.

"Do you think I care about who I kill? Death is nothing to me, son. I have died and reborn many, many times. The way I live is through death, if your mind isn't too dense to understand that," Voldemort said.

"Why didn't you kill me? I was the one who betrayed you! Why kill them?"

"Oh, I like it better this way. I'll see you soon, Draco," Voldermort said.

Draco opened his eyes and shot out of bed. The chair by his bed was empty. He got up and ran to the great hall. Barely anyone was there – dinner had just finished.

"Hermione!" he yelled across the hall. Some people looked away, thinking Draco was a madman, but a group of girls pointed east, meaning the Gryffindor common room. Draco didn't have time to say thanks. He hurried to the common room and stood outside, staring at the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asked merrily.

"I don't know, just let me in," Draco said.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, young man," the Fat Lady replied.

"Let me in, fat arse," Draco yelled.

"Why, how dare you!"

Draco started hitting the big painting, kicking it and punching it, trying to tear it apart with his nails. The Fat Lady shrieked and quickly opened the door for him. Draco stumbled in and stopped when he saw Harry, Ron and Ginny sitting quietly by the fireplace.

"Malfoy, how did you get in-.."

"Where's Hermione?" Draco interrupted. He looked at Ginny and saw tears running down her face. "Where is she!" Draco yelled, panicking.

Ron stood up and walked over to Draco.

"Draco, please, just calm down," Ron said quietly.

"Don't tell me to calm down. Where the hell is she!"

"Draco, please…"

"Tell me!"

"She's not here, Draco," Harry finally answered.

"She's gone."

Kay, hope you liked it. If you don't then I'll just rewrite the whole thing… I'm kinda desperate here – running out of ideas. Once again, please oh PLEEEEASSEE review… thanks ya'll!