I'M A MALFOY AND I'M MORE POWERFUL THAN ANYONE COULD IMAGINE

So, here's the thing. I have finally finished this story after a month... hopefully, you'll like it. And since the Prologue is so short, I've decided to take it down and re-uploaded the file with Chapter One right after the Prologue. Hope you enjoy!

i sink into the never-ending black hole / that sucks my body and drains my soul / enduring the purest of pain to ever hold me / a lost love, a lost youth, my lost forever for eternity -- "farewell me"

~*~*~*~

PROLOGUE: In Solace with Guilt

He walked back towards the manor for he had nowhere else to go. Although he knew that there would be no one waiting for him there… it felt like the only refuge he had. He could still smell the blood of kill on his shirt – the stench of a Muggle. He shouldn't have had this crimson proof on him. For there was enough magic that could end any breath without shedding a single drop of blood. This was unnecessary and uncalled for.

Faster and faster he strode the hill up to the manor; like trying to hide from the glares of the steadily rising sun. And when he closed the doors behind him… his pale skin seemed to glow in the dark deserted house. And yet, at the end of the room… his grey eyes reflected something shining…

As he motioned his way towards the curious object, his strides slowed down for he saw it.

Easily resting on top of the pulpit was the spear.

He could wash the blood away from every thread of his clothing… every inch of his carcass… but this…

This spear… that summoned itself in front of him would serve as an eternal reminder.

What is this? he chided himself as he stood frozen in front of the shimmering object besmirched with blood itself. "Evanesco!" he yelled at the top of his lungs; pointing his wand hopelessly at the sword.

But it didn't disappear. His eyes widened in surprise. It can't be… "You can't be insusceptible to magic! I'm a Malfoy and I'm more powerful than anyone could imagine! Evanesco! Evanesco! Evanesco!" He picked up the spear which failed to disappear from his sight and marched out towards the cliff behind the manor.

He threw it down the cliff and to be certain, he pointed angrily and shouted, "Discedo!" The spear swerved and flew far from him. With laboured breath, he watched and waited until he couldn't see even a single glimmer of reflected light from the sword. And then quietly, he went back to his deserted refuge.

But once inside… as if no time had passed… the sword appeared on the fireplace's mantle. His frustrated sobs gradually disturbed the quiet. He was young and alone and at this time… he became hopelessly desperate. He couldn't get rid of it – the eternal reminder of his guilt. Maybe he was bound to carry this with him.

"Curse you filthy Muggle. Curse you and your soul and your kin and your race," he muttered under his breath. "I swear my blood will not rest until all of you are in oblivion –" his voice faltered when in a glimmering flash, markings of words wrote themselves on the blade. He read them. And the words were familiar… as if destiny was scolding him.

If, then, he couldn't get rid of it – he would put it away…

To be disremembered.

"Reducio!" His voice quivered expecting the sword to remain the same. But it shrunk just like he wanted it to. Now, it was a dagger – but still as sharp.

He grasped the dagger in his hand and washed the blood away with water. He grabbed a piece of cloth and wrapped every inch of the ripper then carried it into the dungeons.

And here, he buried it.

Here, he would leave it with the memories it brought with it.

Here… it would lay undisturbed.

And forgotten…

For centuries to come.

~*~*~*~

i twitch in front of the mirror / cause there stands looking at me / eyes of sorrow, soul of suffering / there, looking at me… a person dying -- "angst"

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

IF YOU CAN KILL – YOU WOULD'VE DONE SO WHEN VOLDEMORT ASKED YOU

i crumble in a corner of the room / at the end of the day, i wash my face with salt / i burn my pillow with my tears / i shout i yell i cry to the heaves / i hear it thunder, growl; i hear it destroy my senses / but though i carry the world it burdened on my shoulders / seems like heaven can't hear me -- "angst"

~*~*~*~

CHAPTER ONE: Trading Providence

I beseech thee with water streaming through my veins
'Tis my redemption, to divide me from these pains
Cleanse my soul and rid my heart of disdain
I relinquish in your powers to break these rusty chains

He knelt in his room until his knees were numb. He looked at the dagger in his hand and longed to strike himself with it. He could not take this agony any longer. It was becoming too much of a burden to him. Every night he lay in bed and all he could see was the image of death. His skin was paler than the moon he cried to at night. And his eyes were now sunken as if he hadn't slept for months.

He was a man… with nothing…

To lose.

A sudden wind swirled. He turned around – surprised for there was neither a window nor a door open in the room. Then he stood up just as sudden and drew out his wand. "Granger!" he called out Hermione who was still looking just as surprised as him.

Hermione followed where the voice came from and saw Draco looking at her wide-eyed. "What am I doing here?" she demanded.

Draco put down his wand hand and looked at her with condemning eyes. "I should ask you the same thing, Granger," he muttered through gritted teeth as he advanced towards her. "Tell me, how did you Apparate in here? These walls are protected. No one can Apparate in here unless you are bonded with the blood of a Malfoy."

"You have got to be kidding me. I did not Apparate, Malfoy!" Hermione retaliated with the same tone of voice. "You did something to me," she said as Draco now stood a few feet in front of her.

But Draco didn't mind her. His rage was getting the better of him. So, with one swift movement, he raised his hand again and pointed his wand straight to her heart. "Speak now, Mudblood or I'll kill you!"

Hermione's eyes grew wide and involuntarily reached for her own wand and aimed it at him. She didn't know what to think or what to do but it was apparent that he was capable of hurting her.

They stood in silence for a minute that one could hear a pin drop. Which she did. But it wasn't a pin; it was a trickle of blood that fell on the floor. She looked down at it and then back up at Draco. She noticed that the hand he was holding up was shaking… and then there, crimson against his white skin, were four deep cuts across his arm where his sleeve was pulled up.

"You're bleeding," she muttered under her breath, conscious that somehow she let it out that she was concerned about the pool of blood gathering on the floor – dripping steadily from inside him.

"That'll heal," Draco said, "but when I'm done with you… no magic can save you… no magic can bring back the dead."

Hermione looked straight in his eyes... there was nothing there but desperation and hopelessness. "If you can kill – you would've done so when Voldemort asked you."

"DO NOT! DO NOT SPEAK OF THAT!" Draco's hand shook uncontrollably now as the same arm was seeming to be bleeding him to death. "You're still not answering me! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?!" he continued with rage, desperately trying to steady his aim at her.

Hermione flinched but Draco didn't notice. He was too preoccupied filling himself with hate. She surveyed him more thoroughly and saw the dagger he had been clutching in his left hand. Just then, realisation swiftly dawned on her. "You summoned me…" she said. "You summoned me?!" she said again, demanding an explanation.

"I did no such thing!" Draco yelled at her. No, he did no such thing. He couldn't have. Why would he? She was a Muggleborn. A filthy Mudblood.

He winced, very much aware of the life draining out of him. His arm was now starting to numb and his vision getting blurry. His hand let go of his wand. And as he became more light-headed by the minute, he knelt down thinking that this was what he was asking for… sweet sweet death.

"Malfoy," Hermione called as Draco watched the blood seep out of him. "Draco," she called again but he wouldn't answer. She lowered her wand and advanced towards him. All she could hear was his weeping.

Draco was crying?

She didn't know what to do. For a while she just stood there looking down at him. Would she let him die? No. I'm not a killer. "Draco, what have you done to yourself?" she said as she knelt in front of him and grabbed his bleeding arm. But he wouldn't even look at her… his eyes were tightly shut as if waiting for his imminent death. "Draco? Draco, answer me. Draco!" she practically screamed when nothing still came out of him. She didn't wait another second. She pulled her wand again and yelled healing spells at his wounds.

"Stop!" Draco shouted, pulling away his arm.

"Malfoy, keep steady!" Hermione scolded as she pulled back his arm.

But Draco was persistent. "No!" he yelled again as he pulled hard that he ended up lying on the floor – his body weakening by the second.

Hermione breathed out a sigh of frustration. She stood up to get closer to him and knelt beside him. "You can kill yourself anytime else you want, Malfoy. But I'm not letting you die in front of me."

Draco started to make a whimpering sound… then his voice gradually grew louder into a laugh – a mirthless laugh. "You always think that you could save everyone," he said to her but his eyes were still closed as he remained unmoving on the floor. "Stop trying to be a hero, Granger."

* * * * *

Draco woke up blurry-eyed with a massive headache and a feeling that someone had been watching him. As he was being watched. He could make out a human figure that was standing right beside him as if waiting. And when his vision had finally cleared, he saw Hermione Granger – with a determined look – aiming a wand just a few inches from his face. He sat up straight in surprise, putting the most distance he could from Hermione; and then realised that he had passed out and that she left him lying on the floor where he had fallen before. Instinctively, he reached for his wand… but could not find it anywhere with him.

"You really think I'm that dumb?" Hermione muttered, interrupting Draco's frantic search for something to protect himself with. "Now… that your sanity's dawning back on you, I want you to talk, Malfoy," Hermione said in a calm yet deeply heated tone. "What am I doing here?"

Draco shot her an angry look. "I told you I didn't do it. Why would I want someone like you in my home –?"

"You call this a home?"

Draco stood up. That was it. "Look here, Granger," he began, glaring at her with eyes that were as pale as his skin. "I didn't call for anybody. I especially didn't call for a… filthy… Mudblood like you."

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione sent Draco flying into the air and back away from her when she felt that he was getting too close.

"Stupid witch!" Draco roared. He let out a soft grunt when he used his right arm to help himself up. He remembered the dagger… and the blood… and the healing. But he realised that his wounds were not really healed… they just stopped bleeding. He assumed that Hermione did this intentionally to make him suffer. But he chuckled showing her his wounds and said, "What have you come to now? You've become so dim you can't even perform simple healing spells properly any more… or maybe you never did learn them –"

"I am not playing around, you arrogant git!"

"Then why don't you just go away?! Disapparate! You did mange to breach these walls before."

Draco waited for her answer but Hermione only stared at him lividly. It was only after a minute that she replied – frustrated. "I can't… Disapparate from inside here… Do you actually think it was my choice to stay here?"

"Huh!" Draco walked across the room. "Then there's the door, Granger!" he said, banging the door open. "Don't tell me you haven't figured that out by now. You're starting to make me think that you're thicker than I actually thought you were." He stood by the door and waited for her to walk through it. But somehow, deep inside him – there where he kept everything else he suppressed – he didn't want her to take another step towards that direction that would mean she was leaving.

Don't be foolish. You're being delirious. This is just your isolation that's getting the better of you.

Hermione's nose flared as she tried to calm herself. She was still glaring at Draco – infuriated that he kept on denying his reason why she suddenly ended up in the manor. She had known the reason right after he passed out on her; but all she wanted was for that reason to come out of him. But if he wasn't talking… she better leave then. She wouldn't waste another minute more waiting for something that apparently wouldn't happen. Two hours of hearing him moan in his sleep as if running away from a nightmare was already enough. So, she turned her eyes away with a frustrated sigh and walked straight towards the door.

And at the exact moment that her foot landed at the door, she was thrown backwards as if there was a violent fortress that wouldn't let her leave. She collected herself from the floor and glared again at Draco. "Now, you understand? You arrogant fool," she muttered as she stood up.

Draco laughed, taking pleasure of Hermione actually hurting herself. "You can't leave the room? I'm afraid you're going to rot in here, then," he said and then stepped outside and closed the door with a bang.

* * * * *

Draco hadn't even taken five steps when it happened again – a sudden wind swirled. Now, he watched it unfold in front of him. Then, Hermione appeared again, looking confused by the sudden change in environment. She spotted Draco, who was looking at her wide-eyed.

With rage, Hermione bellowed a spell that sent Draco in the air again. But this time, the spell was even stronger than before that Draco landed on the other side of the room. She walked towards him as he struggled to sit up. His wounds still hurt and his body was still weak; but somehow he still managed to keep that conceited look on his face.

"Do you know why you haven't healed completely, Malfoy?! It's because those wounds aren't supposed to heal with magic. They will take the natural process of healing… do you know why?" Hermione was now standing beside him.

Draco didn't answer. He was busy trying to stay seated up. He leaned on the wall and looked up at her with a smug expression.

"Do you know why?!" Hermione shouted, frustrated that she was stuck in this cold desolate place with Malfoy – of all people. When Draco still didn't answer, she continued. "You bound yourself to me! You bound yourself to my blood! The blood of a Muggleborn – the blood of a Muggle."

Draco stared at her. No. That's… "That's not possible."

But Hermione wasn't finished. She took out Draco's dagger from her pocket – the dagger that he was firmly clutching in his hand up until he lost consciousness; and knelt in front of him. "What were you doing? Trying to call upon redemption? Were you expecting death, Malfoy? Do you believe that's what's going to save you? Do you even thoroughly know what this is?" she said; her voice now calming down, as she held up the dagger to his face that he could clearly see. "This is the Blade of Deliverance. Now I'm not even going to ask why it's in the possession of the most morally corrupt family I know… but you obviously don't know how this works, do you?" She waited for any sort of reply… but Draco remained silent – clutching his arm and avoiding her gaze. "This isn't magic, Draco. It doesn't recognise magic. This blade is governed by a power far superior than any charm. As far as this dagger is concerned, you are nothing but another lost soul seeking for salvation."

* * * * *

For a while, Draco didn't say a word. He didn't even move; although his gaze slowly turned to Hermione. But this time, Hermione saw in those eyes she hadn't seen from him before. He looked at her like he wanted someone to catch his fall. He was despondent. And he was aware that he was short of reaching out his hand to her. And then completely, without any more thinking, he let down his defences…

"I just want it to stop…" he mumbled so softly that Hermione hardly caught it. He put his hands on his face in surrender and laid himself on the floor – he was weeping. Crying like a forsaken child. For indeed, he was lost and abandoned.

For the first time, Hermione saw him in a different light. She couldn't see the Draco who marched through the school hallways with that permanent air of insolence. This was the side of him that he showed nobody… he was weak, he was terrified… he was human – just like everyone else. "Draco," she whispered to him as she put a hand on his trembling shoulders. But nothing could soothe him. Nothing could make him better any longer.

* * * * *

Hermione looked at Draco. They were back in the room where it all began. She was standing in the middle of the room; facing him. While, he… he was sitting in an armchair, his eyes gazing at nowhere.

"I have to go," she muttered.

Draco bit his lip. "Then you go," he said without even as much as glancing at her.

There was silence before Hermione said, "I can't. I can't Disapparate out of here until you let me go."

Draco let out a frustrated sigh and looked up at her. "How am I supposed to do that? I don't even know how you ended up here."

"Let me go," Hermione said. "You're holding on to me. I can't Disapparate out of here until you let me go."

Draco stood up without taking his gaze off her. But unlike earlier, Hermione waited for him to reach her until there were only a few inches in between them. "Fine," he said in a hollow voice. "I'm letting you go."

There was an unexplained emotion in Hermione. She tried Disapparating again but she couldn't do it. Draco was still mentally holding on to her. Maybe because now they both knew what would happen afterwards… when the incantation carved in the dagger would finally manifest. She reached for his hand, and unwillingly, she felt tears touching her cheeks. Why was it that when she had finally known what was in that heart… it was already too late?

Without saying anything, Draco squeezed her hand and then leaned on her. He didn't want to let go. But what was done was done. And now, time was the one holding his destiny. "Goodbye," he whispered softly in her ear.

And then… she was gone.

~*~*~*~

have they hurt you that much / your tears have dried your sunken eyes / how have you become a lot bitter / has the life you're living slowly draining you / and you lie awake every night staring blankly at the ceiling -- "child"

So? Review please… Next chapter next week.