History speaks
Hermione remembered the stories her mother would tell.
History is written by the brave she would whisper.
Those who weren't afraid of their own shadow.
Those who weren't afraid of change.
But her mother was wrong.
As she was about many things.
History is written by the weak.
By the trembling cowards.
Those who feared change until change was upon them.
And then they wrote about it.
Harry took a deep breath standing in the empty halls of the ministry. He felt the bile rising in his throat as he felt the sudden urge to empty his stomach quickly turning to the nearest waste basket to be reacquainted with the bagel he had for lunch this morning. He stood for a moment his hands on his knees breathing heavily.
He had done it.
He had dreaded the moment for weeks leaving him physically ill on many occasions such as this. But he had done it.
He had faced his demons.
"We had a deal"
Draco Malfoy.
At the age of 18 Harry had hated many people in his life.
Tom Riddle murdered his parents- for that Harry had spent half his life hating the man. Before he even knew what it meant to hate.
Peter Petigrew had betrayed them. He was their friend and he had sold them to Voldemort without a care in the world.
Bellatrix Lestrange had killed his beloved Godfather – after knowing nothing but disappointment from a family that didn't love him, Sirius Black was the only father he knew.
But nonetheless, no one could come close to the hot white rage he felt for Draco Malfoy.
For Draco Malfoy had begun a series of events that set his life ablaze.
Harry eyed him warily.
War had aged him.
His eyes hidden behind a pair of black sunglasses he stood in his pristine silver and black wizard robes the epitome of an aristocrat eluding grace.
And power.
"We had a deal" he repeated through clenched teeth.
"Yes we did and I honoured that deal" Harry replied.
He was tired and wanted to end this quickly.
But Draco Malfoy was not one to be taken lightly.
Not when he was itching for a fight.
"Really? Was that before or after you fed her to the wolves"
Harry sighed loudly irritation beginning to build for his blond ex-classmate. "You came to me and asked me for help. I swore I would make sure she didn't end up in Azkaban and that's what I did"
Draco laughed loudly. Clapping his hands in applause.
"Bravo Potter! Bravo! You're right. You didn't send her to Azkaban. You sent her to her own personal Hell instead" he retorted angrily.
Harry glared. "What did you expect Malfoy? That she would walk out of this unscathed? I didn't. Did you?"
Harry wanted to hurt.
To lash out.
He wanted to feel something other than the lump that was growing in his throat.
But Draco Malfoy didn't take the bait.
He never did.
"I gave you your pound of flesh, or have you forgotten Harry?"
How could he have forgotten? The night still haunted him.
Harry stared in bewilderment at the young Deatheater on his doorstep. He must have known it was suicide to show up at the doorstep of the Order of Pheonix asking for help.
Especially after everything.
Especially him.
Harry crossed his arms impatiently repeating his question "Are you willing to give me Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucious and Narcissa Malfoy?
Harry had been pushing.
Looking for weakness in the iceman's armour.
Mostly he just wanted to hurt him.
For all his years of knowing ice cold Draco Malfoy he never had expected this.
Draco's eyes glazed over. Frozen in horror.
"You said you were willing to do anything Malfoy- Are you willing to betray your parents to save her?" Harry pushed. Fishing.
"Yes" he whispered
Harry felt his resolve break staring incredulously at his ex-classmate.
Had it really come to this?
Had they fallen so far?
"You would sell out your parents for her?" he sputtered.
He observed him carefully.
But Draco Malfoy never gave anything away.
He never did.
"I would do anything. I would give anything. " he responded quietly.
Harry had played his hand and lost.
Fighting a battle he had no hope of winning.
For that sort of love never died.
If you had asked Harry when it had started he would tell you it began he would tell you it began the night she had betrayed him.
But Hermione knew the truth.
It had begun the night she had fallen in love with his enemy.
Part of her had always known that this was where they would end up. This was the inevitable end of choices made long ago. Did she know she would end up betraying her only friend? Perhaps no. But nonetheless, the decision was made the day she realised that she could not live in a world where he did not exist.
The day this epiphany had hit her had left her breathless and alone.
The day it had hit Harry had shattered the young boy beyond repair.
"I didn't have a choice Harry. Please. You have to understand I…"
Harry had exploded. The pain had been unbearable.
"Don't talk to me about choice! I didn't have a choice! Me! If I did- do you think I would have wanted this? That I would have chosen this? Don't stand there and talk to me about choices Hermione!"
Hermione felt her throat close up as she struggled to formulate a response.
"Look around you Hermione! LOOK! Look what you did!" He screamed his arms out gesturing to the broken rubble that once was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The screams still evident in the night air
"I trusted you Hermione. We have been through everything together. We broke the law together. Jumped off bridges together. I TRUSTED YOU!"
He dropped to his knees. He was defeated.
"I loved you Hermione. Why did you not come to me" he asked finally.
Deflated.
Defeated.
Hermione's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Of course she knew he loved her. She had always known.
"I loved you too Harry. I just loved him more"
For years later people will tell the story of Tom Riddle and Harry Potter. The battle that had broken the boy who lived.
But history was a lie.
Written by those looking on the outside in.
But those who knew Harry Potter the truth. Hermione Granger had struck the final blow.
He was the picture of a broken man.
"I can't protect you. Not from this" he whispered brokenly. Hermione watched the blood drip down the side of his face from a cut he had likely forgotten.
His tears flowing freely without shame.
He turned to go his back turned on her.
"I have nowhere to go Harry" she replied. Her tears following his route.
Harry turned to look at her. His eyes wracking all over her person.
Drinking her in.
Hermione realised he was committing her to his memory.
His eyes hardening with resolve.
She watched his heart close to her forever.
"Run".
Hermione had long stopped believing in her mother's stories.
There was no prince coming to rescue her from her tower.
For he had condemned her to a life of torment.
There was no evil queen with a poisoned apple.
Hermione was the villain in her own story.
And it mattered not who wrote her story.
For Hermione's present had become the nightmare her history had foretold.
