Author's Note: Oops. My fingers slipped and I wrote a Dramione drabble for the first time in ages..! Thank you to starrnobella for beta reading this super quick. xxDustNight

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Don't Scream
Rated: M
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Summary: A forgotten night of long ago reveals the truth and ends the terror.
Prompt: A picture of Draco and the words, "Don't Scream." (This was a prompt submitted to Wordsmiths and Betas on Facebook for their Drabble Friday.)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Don't Scream

"Don't scream," he told her, blood dripping from the knife he still held in his hand. His piercing, grey eyes bore holes through her soul as he waited for a reply. When she did nothing but fall to her knees, utterly speechless, he finally released the breath he'd been holding.

Stalking towards where she knelt, he never took his eyes off of her. It didn't matter that chaos continued to rage on around them, or that the end was nigh. The bodies of her comrades were scattered around the battlefield, and he somehow managed to avoid every single one. His boot-clad feet stopped in front of her, the knife clattering to the stone floor.

She flinched, the sound grating on her torn nerves. How could he have done this? Killed all these people? The questions continued to bombard her mind, making her head ache more than it already did. She was missing something. Something important. A gasp was torn from her lips when his hand forcefully gripped her chin so that she had no other option than to return her gaze to his.

A strangled sob bubbled out of her, earning her his trademark smirk. She wanted to say something, perhaps beg for her life or the lives of the others still in danger, but still she could say nothing. Instead, she let the tears rain from her eyes, marring her dirt and blood-stained face even more. Her nose burned from the rancid smell of fire and death, bringing tears to her eyes.

"You're afraid," he observed, head tilting and causing a lock of blond hair to fall across his eyesight. "Good. I want you to remember that feeling. I want you to use it to end this fight."

When her brow furrowed in confusion, he released her chin and reached for the knife. Taking her hand in his, he settled the hilt there, curling her fingers around it so she now held all the power. She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant, but words failed her. He grinned, teeth bared.

"Don't scream," he repeated, letting go of her hand. "When you do it, don't scream."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why does it have to be me?" She'd known all along it had to be her. That's why she'd sought him out, leaving her friends to fend for themselves so she could finish what she'd started.

"You know why, Hermione," he whispered, the faintest hint of regret lacing his words. "It's the only way to set yourself free." He cupped her cheek briefly, thumb brushing across her skin for the last time.

She swallowed audibly, fighting back a torrent of tears. "I love you," she told him, for the first time. The last time.

His eyes closed in anguish, and when they opened they were red, blood red. "I have always loved you. It's not your fault, your memories were altered of the night it happened."

Panic tore through her at the sight of the fangs now protruding from her lover's mouth. Gentle fingers touched her temple, and a spell was murmured inaudibly. The pounding in her head intensified as flashes of a night long ago finally resurfaced. Running through a forest. A bite. Searing pain in her neck. Losing control as he tried to nurse her back to health. Turning him too.

That's when she realized what had happened here tonight. It wasn't just him who had killed these people. She had helped, and now it was time to end it all. Save them all. Save themselves. A deathly calm settled over her as she felt her own fangs appear behind trembling lips. She knew what had to be done.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," she whimpered, wielding the knife between them.

"No, I am the one who is sorry. I should never have left you alone that night." Sighing heavily, he nodded so that she knew he was ready. She would never be ready for this, but she knew she had no other choice. It was either this or continue to ruin the lives of the people around them.

She didn't scream.

Not when she took his life with that bloody knife, or minutes later when she also took her own. The threat was over now. Her friends were safe, freed from the terror they had unknowingly wrought for the past two years.