A short chapter, yes, but I wanted to get it out for the anon birthday girl from tumblr. I will more than likely upload again before Monday. Happy Birthday!

Disclaimer: I Own Nothing

Hermione walked through the lavish garden, eyes trailing over this and that. Looking…but not seeing. The soft sound of her shoes brushing against the grass reached her ears, having a calming effect. A calming effect from the outside, at least. She was sure that outwardly, her face was the perfect picture of composure. Inside, however…

Inside, Hermione wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, hit, and claw at anything she could get her hands on. Preferably, Draco. Theo was gone. He had left days ago and she had not seen him since that night, the night that she had tried to Crucio him. A part of her was more than surprised to find out that Draco had indeed let Theo live even after she had failed in doing what he had demanded of her.

Hermione didn't know how to feel. She was unsure about her emotions, something that had been happening quite often as of late. Theodore was gone and she felt…relieved. She was glad that he was no longer in danger from Draco. He was out of harm's way and she could feel nothing but relief about that. She didn't constantly have to purposefully avoid him in fear that Draco might just fly off the handle and really kill him.

However, another part of her, a much more sinister part, taunted that her relief was because she didn't have to put up with his unwanted advances anymore. She didn't have to constantly look over her shoulder and peek around every corner to avoid his affections. Affections that she did not reciprocate at all.

Another part of her, a much smaller part, reprimanded her for this. Theo was in love with her. He had been through so much, taken so much crap from Draco because of it. The young wizard had bowed out of the race so to speak just for what he thought would be her happiness and all she could think about was how happy she was that she wouldn't have to put up with his advances anymore.

This part of her also scolded her for not caring that she was losing a newfound friend. Theodore had become a confidant in the large house, someone she had begun to trust. He had been patient and very kind with her, something she had grown unused to. It was a relief and she didn't even care that she would no longer have that.

A wave of shame crashed into her and Hermione hung her head, fingers fiddling with a small flower that she had plucked. What was wrong with her? Theodore Nott was an amazing friend, an amazing guy, and any girl would be lucky to have him. Theodore had been ready to give her the world, whisk her away to a lifetime of safety and happiness…and she had said no.

She released a sigh, turning her face upwards to gaze at the sky, brows furrowing in deep thought. Was this because she knew that his life would always be in danger as long as she was with him? Hell, his life would have been in danger either way just for helping her escape. Draco would have stopped at nothing to track them down, killing him and taking her back. Of course, this was why she refused.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself. That sinister part of her reared its ugly head, laughing and whispering awful things into her ear. It hissed that she didn't want to leave. It whispered foul, unthinkable things about how she knew that she could never just walk away from Draco, for he had ruined her. He was inside her, twisted up and around every single one of her organs, his essence mingling with hers. How was she too far gone, too altered…too late.

Hermione swallowed, shaking her head, frantic. She was not too far gone. She was not too late. Whatever had been done to her was reversible and she was going to prove it. She heaved another sigh before turning around and heading towards the house, the flower slipping from between her fingers and silently landing on the ground.

"Why," she finally asked, her voice cracking.

She took a stumbling step back as he took one forward. She couldn't decode the expression on his face and now knowing what she knew, that unnerved her.

"Why not," he chuckled.

She stared at him like a mad woman, trying to understand what could possibly be funny.

"Do you see me laughing? Do I look like I'm enjoying this at all? Why…why would you-"

"Sell my soul to Voldemort? If I told you that I'd have to kill you."

"Stop it! Just, stop," she snarled, digging her hands into her hair as she paced back and forth.

She had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that Harry's suspicions had been right. Draco Malfoy was one of them now. That statement alone terrified her for so many reasons, reasons that she didn't even have the energy to analyze right now. He was inside the castle with Harry and Dumbledore. Had he been reporting back to Voldemort this entire time? Or was there a much bigger picture than that, than him simply being a spy?

She stared at him through blurry eyes and with a horrified sob she realized that she was actually starting to pity him. She never believed that Draco was truly evil, despite the fact that Blaise had said otherwise. This had to have been forced on him. It made sense because the pressure had to have been coming at him from all directions. She refused to believe the possibility that he… No, she thought as she shook her head. Draco was a lot of things; cunning, crude and even a liar but he was not evil.

"We can help you," she whispered.

An arched eyebrow was the only evidence of his surprise at her statement.

"Help me," he chuckled.

"Yes! Whatever it is that they threatened you with-"

"You are an idiot," he interrupted in amusement.

She inhaled as if she had been slapped.

"Why? Because I believe that you can be saved? Because I don't think it's too late for you," she hissed.

Hermione sat up with a gasp, the sudden action bringing forth a headache, causing her to rest her hand against her temple. She scrunched her eyes together, hissing in displeasure as her head began to throb. She heaved a tired sigh, her heart skipping a beat in her chest as she remembered that day.

It was the day that she had finally found out that Draco was a Death Eater. It was the day that she realized that Harry had been right after all, that Draco was one of them. Something, up until that point, she had found hard to believe. That day was the day that she realized that Draco was absolutely no longer the scrawny, whiny kid who always made idle threats about telling his father. It was the day she had found herself in a room alone with a Death Eater, someone who served the darkest wizard to ever live.

She had realized then just how dangerous and serious this all had become and had only gotten an inkling of what she was getting herself into. She should have run when she had the chance. She cursed herself for thinking that she could have possibly helped him, changed him even. As she thought back, it was almost laughable how ready she had been to help him, offer her support when he did not want it. She had even felt sorry for him. Of course, then, she didn't realize just how demented he was…

She rubbed her head some more before running her hand through her hair, opening her eyes. She looked around Draco's room before her eyes finally landed on the figure sitting on the couch, her eyes wide with surprise. He had given no indication that he was even there while she had been drawn into her thoughts. Also, she wasn't exactly expecting his company, seeing as he was normally gone whenever she awoke.

She didn't really know what to say. The night he had confronted Theo had been burned into her mind on a constant loop. She hadn't spoken to him in days, opting to ignore him and he had surprisingly left her alone for the most part. And alone she had been. She hadn't seen Ginny nor Blaise around in days as well. While it wasn't uncommon as of late to not run into either one of them (they were still grieving), it struck her as a bit odd to not see them for a few days in a row.

She and Draco regarded one another in silence. She stared at him, a myriad of emotions coursing through her veins while he gazed back at her. His entire expression was blank, giving no hint as to what was going on inside of his head at the moment. Outwardly, no one could ever guess as to what kind of madness was going on inside of that head of his. He was draped in nothing but black, one arm stretched out along the back of the couch while the other rested on the knee of the leg that was currently thrown across the other. Fed up, and a bit uncomfortable, with the silence, she finally asked:

"What do you want?"

He blinked, turning his head away and Hermione could just faintly detect that his jaw was clenched. He closed his eyes, releasing a quiet sigh before slowly turning back to face her.

"I may have…overreacted when it came to Theodore," he finally said.

Hermione's heart stopped and she froze, the only visible sign that she had heard him being the slight widening of her eyes. What did he just say?

"Don't give me that look. I'm reasonable when I want to be," he quietly said, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione blinked, shaking her head in disbelief. No. She refused to believe what was happening. She had been down this road before and she was not going to be fooled again. She was not stupid.

"What are you playing at," she demanded.

He inhaled before dropping his arm and his leg, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his nose, pinning her with his piercing gaze. She squirmed in her seat at the intensity of it.

"I'm not playing at anything."

Hermione scoffed, resisting the urge to slap him in his pretty face.

"Bullshit! You expect me to believe that? You could tell me that my hair was on fire and I'd still doubt you," she spat.

Hermione didn't understand what he was doing. Something was up and she wanted to know.

"You could say that…my mother gave me some clarity," he murmured, never taking his eyes off of her.

Hermione scoffed. This was absolutely unbelievable.

"You're that much of a mamma's boy that she says one word, and you're suddenly ready to repent for everything that you've done? I'm not buying it," she whispered, shaking her head.

"I never said that. All I said was that I may have gone a bit overboard…"

"Yes, and coming from you, that might as well be a sign of defeat. What is going on? I want to know right now," she demanded.

Why was he toying with her? Why was he acting so unlike him? He stood, heaving a sigh, before slowly walking around the spacious room. He took slow, sure steps, gazing at the artwork that he had on the walls. Hermione found herself unconsciously raking her eyes over him while his back was turned before she reprimanded herself. She looked away…

"Blaise and Ginny left for a few days," he spoke.

Hermione frowned at this piece of information.

"What? Why?"

Hermione mentally smacked herself as soon as she asked that question. It was quite obvious why they had left for a while. It would make sense that Ginny would need to distance herself from this place for a bit after what had happened. Hermione found herself wondering if Ginny knew of Blaise's involvement in what had happened with Theo. More than likely, she didn't. If she did, Hermione guessed that she would have stayed behind. Still…it was unlike Ginny to not say goodbye.

"Ginny would never leave without telling me goodbye," Hermione firmly stated.

"Wouldn't she? Wasn't it just weeks ago when you never thought her capable of betrayal?"

Hermione closed her eyes, exhaling.

"She didn't betray anyone. There was just more to the story…more which she had planned to tell me if I had not reacted so harshly," Hermione replied.

"Didn't you just learn about the 'more', what was that, about a week ago?"

His head was tilted in her direction as he looked at her over his shoulder, tone and face inquiring. Hermione shook her head as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I know what you're doing. You will not turn me against her."

He chuckled, a dark sound. He shook his head.

"Is that what you think I'm trying to do? I'm simply making a point that you clearly don't know her as well as you thought you did…," he said, turning to fully face her now.

He shrugged.

"That was all. Besides, I was simply informing you that Ginny and Blaise are gone. I know that you've probably been wondering where they are," he continued, sitting on the edge of his bed.

He rested his eyes on her and she looked away, unable to hold eye contact. Hermione did not like not being in the know and right now, she felt like there was something that she did not know. She didn't buy for one second that he regretted what happened with Theo. Draco Malfoy didn't do regret when it came to things that benefitted him. Bastard.

"I really wish that you would just cut the crap," she quietly said.

"Why, because you don't know how to respond to a Draco that is actually polite?"

She warily glanced at him before turning away again, eyelashes fluttering. No, she did not know how to respond to a Draco that was actually being polite. It was…so out of character. One minute, he was ready to murder a friend and lock her away forever for even talking to said friend. Suddenly, he's Mr. Remorseful? She knew that he was up to something, he just had to be. Right?

She was pulled from her thoughts by the feel of his hand on her cheek. She didn't respond as he turned her head to face him, his eyes raking over her face before gently pushing her hair back. She recoiled away from him, preparing to turn her head, but he wouldn't let that happen.

He forced her eyes to connect with his, the feel of his thumb brushing against her cheek oddly calming. She wasn't sure what was going on and had prepared herself for pretty much anything to come out of his mouth. Anything except:

"Your parents are dead, Hermione."

Hermione stared at him, eyes blank as she registered his words. She closed her eyes, scoffing and snatching her face away from his hands.

"You really are something else, you know that? Telling me that my parents are dead?"

She jumped up from the bed, turning to face him, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Draco?"

Never would she have imagined that he would stoop so low. Draco's expression did not change, causing her to scoff yet again.

"Hermione…I'm not lying to you."

"I don't believe you," she loudly stated, letting him know that she wasn't falling for any of his crap anymore.

Draco was a liar, always had been, and now was no different. Her parents were safe, she had made sure of it. She had wiped their memories of all traces of her, relocating them to Australia so that they would be found by her and her only. He suddenly stood, towering over her.

"Fine. If you won't believe me then maybe you'll believe the man who killed them…"

Hermione kept her stare even, debating whether or not to even entertain such rubbish. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Fine. Lead the way," she finally said, gesturing to the door.

Following Draco out of the room and down the stairs, Hermione glared daggers into his back. Hermione didn't understand what he could possibly get out of this. Was he expecting her to break down and lean on him for support in this trying time? Of course, he had to have known that she would see right through it. She had taken all of the necessary precautions to make sure her parents were as safe as possible.

Of course, it wasn't exactly foolproof. There was that slim chance that they could be happened upon, but that chance was very slim. Obliviating them had made them extremely difficult to find, not impossible. Otherwise, when this was all over, if they came out on top, she would never be able to find them. Hermione found herself frowning as he led her down into the cellar.

It was dark and Hermione found herself running her hand along the wall as she cautiously followed Draco down the stairs. As they descended, Hermione felt a bit of doubt creeping in. Could Draco be telling the truth? Were her parents really gone? Surely, Draco wasn't this cruel…

Hermione's thought process completely halted as light flooded the dark cellar and her eyes landed on the bound figure in front of them. Her eyes widened as she eventually recognized him as Rodolphus Lestrange. Her mind flew back to the Department of Mysteries all those years ago, recalling how he was one of the Death Eaters to fight against them. She took a step back as he raised his head from its hanging position, his cold, hateful eyes meeting hers.

"I had heard that you had taken Potter's whore as a pet…seeing is believing, I suppose," the older man spat, literally.

Hermione took another step back before looking up at Draco in confusion, but his hard eyes were trained on Lestrange. She noticed that his fist was clenched beside him, the air becoming tense.

"I would gut you, Lestrange, but unfortunately, that isn't my right," he calmly whispered.

Hermione's eyes snapped back to the madman in front of them as he let out a laugh. Hermione noticed that dried blood was smeared along his face and matted into his hair.

"Oh? Is the mudblood here to avenge her mum and dad?"

Everything suddenly grew silent as Hermione stared at him, wide eyes widening even further as his words reached her ears. She felt as if someone had stuffed cotton in her ears, leaving only the sound of her frantic heartbeat as comfort. Goosebumps erupted over her entire body, her hairs standing on end. She saw nothing but Lestrange's sadistic face as he howled with laughter, each shake of his shoulders driving the knife deeper.

Hermione had always imagined that if this day ever came, her skin would grow cold. That her body would quite literally freeze with the realization that she was an orphan. This was not what happened. A fire, a raging inferno like no other began to build up inside of her, warming her hands, her cheeks…her chest.

Hermione did not move, too afraid to for some reason. The sound of her heartbeat grew louder until it was like the wings of a helicopter in her ears. The flame inside of her grew, his laughter like gasoline to it until it finally erupted. Her parents were dead. Her mum and her dad were gone. Just like that, they no longer existed.

She would never see them again. She would never hear their laughter as her dad told one of his corny, unfunny jokes. She would never see her mum thank her dad as he reminded her, yet again, to take her coffee with her to work. They would never wake her up for breakfast and she would never cook for them for their anniversary.

Hermione had forced herself to accept these things when she had left them. She had knew that there was a possibility that she would never see them again. What she had not accepted was them never seeing each other. They would no longer be able to hug and kiss one another. They would never be able to dance with each other while her mum badly hummed a tune to a song she could never remember. They would never be able to hold hands, comfort one another.

They would never be able to tell each other 'I love you'.

Only when Hermione's knees buckled, did she realize that she hadn't been breathing. Strong arms caught her and she hesitantly looked up at Draco through blurry eyes. What she was looking for, she didn't know. Maybe she was hoping that he really was that cruel to play such a joke on her. Maybe she was hoping that by looking into his eyes, he would confirm that Lestrange was lying and that her parents weren't dead, but safely tucked away in Australia.

All of her hearing seemed to come back at once and the tears finally spilled over as she heard her ragged breaths. Hermione felt like she couldn't get air fast enough. She felt a burning chill like no other crawl over her skin, as if the cold hands of death were threatening to take her too. It hurt. It hurt so much and how foolish she had been to think Draco lying to her and killing Dumbledore was heartbreak. This…this was true heartbreak.

Her nails dug into Draco's arms as he gripped her shoulder, holding her upright. His face was void of all emotion, either because he didn't care or to keep her calm, she didn't know. She just knew that she wanted him to laugh and tell her that this was all one big joke.

"Want to hear about how they screamed and squirmed?"

She turned her head away, scrunching her eyes together.

"That mum of yours was quite…feisty. Poor dad was forced to watch," Lestrange gruffly whispered.

Hermione had lost all feeling in her legs, the only thing keeping her up being Draco's arms. She clung to him as his words truly settled in and a fresh wave of tears fell as she imagined how her parents must have suffered.

"Hermione…Hermione," Draco whispered.

Hermione hung her head, unruly curls falling into her face.

"Look at me," he said, grabbing her chin and forcing her head up.

Hermione stared into his eyes, silver and brown clashing, and then holding. One of his hands was holding her up while the other slowly let go of her chin.

"It's going to be okay…"

"No, no," she forced out.

Merlin, she was going to be sick. She suddenly blinked as he lifted an object in front of her eyes and it took her a minute for her sight to adjust. They focused in on the knife that he held between his fingers. He twirled it between them a few times before holding it out to her, the blade end in his hand while the handle faced her.

She slowly looked up at him, her tears had paused in disbelief as it sank in. Surely, he couldn't…?

"What-what are you doing? What is this?"

A slow smirk danced across his lips, eyes swirling with sinful intentions as he answered.

"You know what this is."

Oh...you all thought he was being nice? Without ulterior motives? That's cute.