Disclaimer: I Own Nothing
Please, point out any grammar mistakes to me, if there be any. I did not proof read as much as I would have liked to.
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."
As Hermione realized what exactly was going on, she stared at him. She just…stared. There really wasn't much else that Hermione could do. Before her was the man responsible for the death of her parents. He was the reason that they were no longer in this world, basking in the love they had for each other. Here was the man who had murdered her parents…and Draco was suggesting that she kill him.
"No."
That was her immediate answer. Despite what her lips said, a voice inside of her head was saying something entirely different. This was her parents' killer. He deserved to suffer, to die. She had every right to end his life and no one would blame her for it. After everything that she had been through, Hermione deserved some sort of retribution.
But not like this…
"No…?"
Draco's eyebrow was raised, smirk slowly falling from his lips as her response reached his ears. Hermione swallowed, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.
"No," she repeated with conviction.
She heard Lestrange let out a guttural, spine-tingling cackle.
"How quaint. The two of you are having a domestic," he laughed.
Hermione frowned, forcing herself to ignore the sound of his voice. She was hanging on by a thread, and having her parents' killer so close, trying to converse with her, was only making things worse. She and Draco stared at one another, her gaze equally as hard as his.
"If I kill him, Draco, I am no better than he is…no better than the rest of them…no better than you," she spat.
She didn't linger to see his reaction, instead opting for turning and exiting the cellar. She climbed the stairs two at a time, eager to get away from Lestrange's taunting words. She didn't hear his footsteps, but there was no doubt in her mind that Draco was right behind her.
When she stepped back into the main part of the house that was when everything hit her. Her parents were gone. She touched her face, expecting there to be wetness where there was none. Why wasn't she crying? Was something wrong with her? Or had Draco simply taken her tears too, along with everything else?
"I'm disappointed in you, Hermione."
Hermione did not turn around, instead wrapping her arms around herself and staring at the floor.
"Do you honestly think I care if I disappoint you? You've disappointed me more times than I can count, Draco," she quietly replied.
She tensed as she felt him approach, only slightly relaxing when he laid his hands on her shoulders, massing his fingers into her skin.
"He killed your parents, Hermione," Draco quietly replied, his breath fanning over her.
Hermione closed her eyes, wishing that he would just leave her alone.
"Don't you want to make him pay? Don't they deserve to be avenged…?"
Hermione hung her head, one lone tear escaping, recalling how she had thought that very same thing herself.
"Your parents would want-."
Hermione had spun around and slapped him before the entire sentence had even escaped his lips. She took great pride in the glowing red mark on his cheek before deciding that it wasn't enough. She slapped him again, beating her fists against his chest, pushing him against the cellar door. He took it, not even reacting or defending himself and that pissed her off even more.
She stared up into his grey eyes, her nostrils flaring, fists clenched by her side.
"How dare you? What in Merlin's name makes you think that you have the right to tell me what my parents would or would not want?"
He didn't respond, gazing down at her from beneath his lashes, an emotionless expression on his face.
"My father would have wanted me to be with a man who treats me like a queen. He would have wanted me to be with someone whom I could trust to protect me and support me. My mum would have just wanted me to be happy. She would have wanted her little girl to have the whole world," she spat at him.
She backed away from him, shaking her head.
"Most of all, they would have wanted me to stay true to myself, no matter what. They would not want their daughter to become a killer, so do not even dare to try and tell me what my parents would have wanted," she quietly finished.
Draco sneered down at her as he approached her.
"So what are you going to do, Hermione? Let him go? We can do that if you want. Go on…set him free," Draco hissed.
Hermione swallowed, her eyes traveling to the cellar door. The thought of just letting him go did not sit well with her.
"Humph. Yeah, that's what I thought."
"Screw you," she shrieked, her eyes resting on him.
She should have known, from the first moment he had appeared almost kind, she should have known that there was a catch. Upon finding out the reason for his uncharacteristic behavior, she had thought…she had let herself believe that… She shook her head, scolding herself for her stupidity.
"How long have you known, Draco?"
She didn't need to go into detail, he knew exactly to what she was referring to. Hermione was no idiot. It was very hard to believe that Draco had just found out about her parents and had tracked Lestrange down immediately, bringing him to her like a silver platter.
"My mother told me a few days ago."
Hermione frowned as she realized that she had been kept in the dark about this longer than she would have liked to have been.
"Did Ginny know? Before they left, did you tell her?"
It had suddenly occurred to her that them leaving could have had something to do with this. Maybe Draco had sent them away, wanting to give her space and time to grieve? Or maybe he had done so because he wanted his shoulder to be the only one she cried on. Prick.
"If she found out, it wasn't through me," he replied.
Hermione threw her hands up.
"Of course. Of course, you told Blaise. Why am I not surprised? As a matter of fact, why am I even surprised by anything that you do anymore? I should have accepted a long time ago that you are what you are-."
Draco's jaw ticked as he gazed at her, eyes slowly hardening.
"I bring you the man that killed your parents and somehow…I'm the bad guy here."
"You brought him here so that I could kill him!"
"He murdered your parents! Any normal, sane person would jump at the opportunity to avenge their parents' deaths," he snapped, stepping towards her.
"Well, I guess I'm not sane then! That's not who I am, Draco. You know that," she cried.
"Then you are weak. That man had no remorse when he murdered them. He had no problem torturing your father, raping your mother…"
Hermione flinched.
"…all the while forcing him to watch before gutting them both! If he had the chance, Hermione, he would happily do it again," Draco threw at her.
Hermione swallowed, eyes watering as she turned away. She kept her eyes on the wall as he gripped her arms, his body a hair's width away from her own.
"That man is a monster who took great pleasure in what he did. He took great pleasure in doing something that he knew would break you…so why are you sparing him?"
Everything that Draco said was true. That man in there…he was a monster and she had no doubt that he would do it all over again. He probably did enjoy taking her parents' lives, probably even laughed. She sharply inhaled when Draco took her chin in between his fingers, lifting her chin and rubbing his thumb across her cheek, catching a stray tear.
She could understand that in Draco's mind, he had done the right thing by offering Lestrange up to her. However, it meant nothing in comparison to everything else that he had done. She jerked away from his close proximity, stumbling backwards.
"I'm not sparing him, I'm sparing myself."
And then she was gone.
Hermione did not leave her room for two weeks. Draco had food and such sent up by the House Elves, but Hermione hardly had an appetite for anything. It seemed that her body had finally processed everything that had happened and it was telling her that it had had enough.
Ginny and Blaise had long returned, she could hear them in the hall from time to time. Sometimes during the evening, or morning, Hermione could never tell, Ginny would knock on her door, pleading to come in. Hermione never answered, not until yesterday when she had told Ginny that she just wanted to be alone.
Ginny had asked how long that would be and the truth was that Hermione didn't know. She didn't feel up to seeing or talking to anyone and she was sure that Ginny understood. Her emotions and thoughts were so all over the place that she had begun to live in a constant state of grief and confusion.
The friendship, and possible relationship, that she and Harry had shared was over. Despite the questions still surrounding the incident, she and Harry's friendship was beyond repair. The night of Dumbledore's death still heavily weighed on her mind, constantly reminding her that she was closer to Draco than anyone and yet had not seen, had not even had an inkling of what he was planning.
She was certain that she was not the only one who partially blamed herself for what had happened. Even her relationship with Ginny would never be the same. Despite the fact that they had made up, Ginny had still hid this entire part of her life from Hermione. While Hermione understood the reasoning for doing so, it still hurt that Ginny had not trusted her enough with something so important, forcing Hermione to take a look at herself. Yes, they were well on their way to getting back to where they once were. However, Ginny was living out her fairytale life with the boy she had loved for years. When all of this was over, she and Blaise would no doubt get married and have many adorable brown skinned, redheaded children.
Hermione, on the other hand… There were only two options for herself and she honestly wasn't sure how she felt about either one.
Draco would win. She would finally succumb to him, surrendering the very last piece of herself, the very last thing she had left. He would get what he wanted and if this happened, then that would mean that he had succeeded in breaking her completely. She had no doubt that if she finally let go, she could be happy…but at what cost? What kind of happiness would that be exactly? A sick, psychotic, and twisted sort of happiness, she scathingly thought.
Or…she would win. She would get away, break away from his hold and even then, she would not officially be free. If she left, finally got away, he would always remain within her. He had succeeded in slithering his way into her very soul, her essence, his presence constantly intertwined with her own. A piece of him would always remain, making it impossible for her to ever be completely happy. If she got away, she would not get out unscathed. His words had dug into her too many times for her to walk away unblemished. Too much had happened here for her to simply walk away…untainted. If she left, she would not be the same girl who had been dragged here. She would not belong…
Hermione sat up, startled awake by another nightmare for the third night in a row. Her hands were clammy, skin slick with sweat, strands of hair sticking to her face and neck. If she closed her eyes, Hermione was positive that she could still hear the screams. Apparently, her mind had a wild imagination.
She had been able to come up with several different scenarios in which Lestrange had killed her parents. Each time had always started out the same, just the three of them, and then he would show up. Sometimes he used his wand, sometimes a knife, and sometimes just his bare hands. It always ended different, but yet…the same. It always ended with her parents screaming for her help as she stood paralyzed, unable to do a thing.
Hermione calmed her breathing, wrapping the thick covers around her, despite how warm she already was, and laid back down. She stared at the wall, her parents screams on a constant loop in her mind before sleep eventually took her, like a thief in the night.
"Hermione. Look at me, Hermione," he pleaded.
She reluctantly gazed at him through the corner of her eyes.
"I love you. Do you understand that? This isn't some stupid fickle romance. What I feel for you is real. I'd do anything for you. You know that, right? You know that I'd give my life for you. I know…I know that deep down you feel the same way. I know you do but Malfoy…he's messing with your head. He's making you question so many things, I can see it. I know you, Hermione. I know that you think that deep down there's some good in him. I know that you think that you can save him, but you can't. Do you understand? You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."
"I don't-"
"Yes, you do. I can't lose you too, I can't," his voice broke.
"Harry..."
"Before you know it he'll sink his claws into you so deep and…and you'll be gone. He'll take you away from me," he whispered.
"That's not going to happen, Harry..."
...
Hermione sat up, eyes wide, staring at the wall in front of her. Sleep trouble was not new to her, but it still did not make it any easier to deal with. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking around the room as she accepted that she would not be going back to sleep tonight.
Her mind was too busy going a mile a minute, her body abuzz with energy and tension. As she slung her feet over the side of the bed, exiting her room, she wondered how long this would last. Your parents were killed, Hermione. Will that ever be something you get used to? Hermione sighed, shoulders sagging as she realized that that would not be something she would grow to get used to. Nor did she wish to ever get used to that.
She could guess as to how late it was by how quiet the huge mansion was. She had half expected Draco to be skulking about, the predator that he was, but she found that even he was sound asleep. At least, that was what she assumed considering that there was no sign of him.
She soon found herself downstairs in the kitchen, trying to find something that would satiate her. That was going to be much easier said than done seeing as she hardly had an appetite at all lately. However, she knew that she couldn't go on like this. It's okay to grieve, Hermione. You don't have to be so strong all the time, she thought to herself. No, she supposed that she did not always have to be so strong.
Still, strong was what she was. Or at least, strong was what she used to be. She could have counted the number of times on one hand that she had broken down or lost her temper. In Draco's presence, that seemed to be all that she did. Her emotions always went haywire whenever he was around.
For the first time in a while, she just felt…numb. It almost felt as if her parents weren't really gone, almost hard to fathom. Of course, they were really gone. When all of this was over, she would have no one to reunite with.
"He killed your parents, Hermione."
Hermione closed her eyes as she recalled Draco's words. She knew that Lestrange was still here, no doubt he would be until she decided what she wanted to do with him. No, she didn't want to let him go. It wouldn't be right to just let him walk away after he had impacted her life so detrimentally. Still, Hermione wasn't a killer. That wasn't who she was. Besides, it wasn't exactly fair to torture Lestrange with the uncertainty of what his fate would be.
Before Hermione knew what she was doing, her feet had carried her towards the cellar. She wasn't exactly sure what possessed her to do this, but she knew that she couldn't continue on like this. This kind of state that she was in was exactly what Draco wanted from her. She was currently right where he wanted her and she would be damned if she let him use her grief to his advantage.
She took the steps one at a time, the light from inside the house shining into the cellar. Her eyes passed over the knife that Draco had tried to get her to use, left forgotten on the cellar floor. She looked up to stare at the half awake form of Rodolphus Lestrange.
This was the man who was the other half to Draco's deranged aunt. Hermione wondered what kind of crazy someone had to be in order to keep up with her. Then, of course, she remembered why he was down here. How fitting they are for each other, she bitterly thought.
She had imagined that seeing him again would force her into another fit…she had imagined wrong. Looking at the man who killed her parents did not intensify her grief or send her into another meltdown. Instead she felt nothing but wonder. Wonder at how far gone someone could possibly be to enjoy doing what he had done to another human being. What made someone turn into that, she wondered?
His low chuckle pulled her from her thoughts.
"Has the mudblood come to play?"
Hermione bit her tongue at the double meaning behind his words, not missing the way his eyes ran over her form. She was wearing an oversized tee that stopped just below her knees, leaving the lower half of her legs on display.
"No. I came here to talk to you," she shakily replied.
She watched as he twisted his head from side to side, fully awakening now before his dark eyes rested on her. Hermione almost took a step back at the intensity in them, the darkness…the emptiness.
"What could Draco's whore have to discuss with me?"
He spat the question out, grinning at her visible discomfort at being referred to as Draco's whore.
"Why…?"
Like with Draco before, she did not elaborate. There was no need to.
"The Dark Lord put the word out…someone had to do it. I volunteered…was more than happy to rid this world of more muggles," he hissed.
Hermione clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to look away from his taunting gaze.
"Why? I don't understand how you people can hate an entire race of people, people just like yourselves-."
"Your kind is nothing like my kind, Ms. Granger. You are disgraceful and every single one of you needs to be eradicated…or put in your place," he ended with a cruel smirk on his lips.
Hermione swallowed, eyes downcast and eyebrows furrowed. She had come for closure, answers, hell, maybe even some sort of peace. Instead, she gotten nothing but hatred. Pure, blinding hatred for people who had lives and hopes and dreams just like them. What else did you possibly expect?
Hermione was even more bewildered than when she went there. She did not know what she wanted to do with him, so she turned to leave.
"Not going to kill me?"
His question came out teasingly, mocking. She paused at his question before looking over her shoulder.
"I am no killer. That's you, not me," she replied.
"Don't forget your blood traitor of a boyfriend," he cackled.
Hermione squared her shoulders, opting to ignore him as she began to climb the stairs. She had just made it to the door when he whispered:
"She remembered you, you know…"
Hermione froze, eyes going wide as she spun around to face him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"What," she breathed.
His dark, maniacal eyes bore into her own.
"I was just finishing up with her…your poor old mum, when she screamed for you," he said, showcasing a set of pearly whites.
"You're lying," Hermione immediately responded.
There was no way, it was impossible.
"Oh she screamed and screamed for her daughter, but oh. Where were you? Here cozying up to your Death Eater?"
His laughed bounced off of the walls and around her.
"I don't believe you," she hissed.
"Believe what you want, you filthy mudblood. When I get out of here, I'm coming for that blood traitor friend of yours. The Weasley girl? Then I'm going for Zabini, then Longbottom, the other Weasley. What's his name? Ronald? I'm going to disembowel every single one of your heroic friends…"
Hermione turned her head, forcing herself to brush off his words.
"I'll save the Dark Lord's favorite for last. He gave me this, you know."
Lestrange turned his head, showcasing the jagged cut starting from his ear, traveling all the way down to his neck.
"I'm going to slit his throat right before your very eyes," he hissed.
"It isn't like that," she choked out, despite the way her heart sped up.
"Isn't it? No matter because it will come to pass. I'm going to get out of here and do you want to know how?"
Hermione should have left, she should have walked out a long time ago, the minute that she realized she wasn't going to get what she had come for.
"You're weak. You're a weak, spineless mudblood. Just like your parents-."
Hermione couldn't say when she had moved, but all she knew was that one minute, she was on the stairs and the next…
She panted, completely out of breath as she stared at his emotionless face. Her blood was boiling, vision blurry from tears as she straddled him. She briefly noted that her body was trembling, her entire frame on edge. Her mind was a jumbled mess of noise, preventing her from making sense of anything that had just happened. Then…it wasn't such a mess anymore and she dropped the knife in horror.
Her eyes widened and she stared at his blank face. The realization of what she had just done hit her like a Bludger, right in the stomach. She reached out, trailing her fingers down his lifeless face before her eyes traveled down.
Blood.
There was so much blood.
It was on him, on the floor, on…her. She turned her stained hands over, eyes raking over the mess she had made. Her mouth fell open in shock and she hurriedly scrubbed at her skin, attempting to rub it off.
"No, no," she whispered, panicking.
She suddenly let go of herself as if she had been burned, coming to the realization that her appearance was not what was important at the moment. She placed her hands on his chest, pumping up and down, frantic…desperate.
"No, no, no," she chanted.
She glanced at the knife, now flung across the room, and back to Lestrange. She hit his chest, repeatedly.
"Come on, come on. This isn't happening," she cried, the truth of what she had just done staring her right in the face.
She twisted her fingers into her hair, stumbling onto her feet before screaming:
"Draco!"
She fell back to her knees, trying every wandless healing spell that she knew, becoming more and more hysterical as nothing worked.
"Draco!"
His name had just barely escaped her lips the second time before the cellar door came swinging open with a bang. He was immediately behind her and she turned to look up at him, a desperate plea on her lips.
"I…do something," she shrieked.
He simply stared at Lestrange before his eyes traveled to her, completely blank. Hermione's face crumbled and she covered her mouth, shaking her head.
"Draco, please…"
She crawled towards him, twisting her hands into his shirt.
"You can save him, right? You…there's something that you can do, right?"
"Hermione…"
She stumbled away from him, picking up the knife and shoving it in his face.
"This is yours…isn't it? Th-there's something that you can do…"
"Hermione, there's nothing that I can do."
"Don't say that! There has to be…," she trailed off as his eyes passed over her, landing on Lestrange's still form.
Hermione hit his chest, forcing him to look at her.
"You've been training with him, haven't you? Surely, he's taught you something…anything," she pleaded.
She let out a shaky sob, clutching her stomach.
"He's dead, Hermione," Draco said, taking her chin in his hand.
Hermione snatched away from him, stumbling back.
"No, no. There has to be something th-that you can do. Draco, please," she cried.
"You killed him-."
"No. I-," she broke off with a sob.
She clutched Draco's arm, her entire body shaking as she lifted her fingers to her mouth.
"It was an accident. I didn't…I didn't mean to."
"I know. I know that. It's going to be alright," he said.
"No, it's not! You have to do something!"
Draco gripped her arms, shaking her, making her hair fly everywhere.
"There's nothing that I can do, Hermione! He's dead…rightfully so," he spat.
Hermione closed her eyes, gasping for breath, knees buckling. She pulled away from him, turning to sob over the body of Rodolphus Lestrange, the wizard who had murdered her parents. The wizard who had died by her hands.
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