It's an update! I try so hard not to take so long to update, but I'm just hardly ever satisfied. not sure if anyone else has noticed, but I've noticed that my last few chapters just seem to be lacking in quality. I wasn't pleased with them, and I feel like my writing for this story has been getting rather weak and sloppy lately. I don't like that. I'm trying to fix that. Fortunately, I am rather content with this chapter. Maybe it has something to do with it being purely Dramione, who knows.
Also, I realize it may be a lot, but I wonder if any of you can remember an important detail from the night on the Astronomy Tower (Ch 4 of M&M), and then recall an even more important detail from Ch. 6 of M&M? Something that will be very important later on?
Disclaimer: I Own Nothing
The polished wooden floor was silent beneath her feet as she walked around the living room. The kitchen was directly across from her, and to her right, there was a short hallway that lead to a bathroom and linen closet. Just next to the hallway was the stairs, and she slowly climbed them one step at a time, her hand trailing along the banister.
There were only two rooms upstairs, one with a bathroom within it. The doors stood on each side of the stairs and directly in front of her was a window with a seat. The corners of her lips turned up ever so gently as she walked towards it, sinking down and leaning her back against the wall. She'd always wanted a window seat.
Her eyes fell onto Draco, who was outside in the yard putting up wards and enchantments. That'll never work, she thought to herself. She's going to find us, going to find me. Of that, Hermione was certain.
She had seen what people would do, the lengths they would go to once they were pushed too far. Hermine honestly didn't know how much of a heart Bellatrix had left. She didn't even know if Bellatrix had still loved her husband, dearly, or was merely avenging him out of duty, simply because it was she who had killed him. Hermione did know that she was tired of hiding, and she was tired of fighting. She was tired of fighting…everything.
She pressed her forehead to the glass, bringing her fingers up to trace along the pane. Draco's words waded through the depths of her mind, the familiarity within them giving her a sense of comfort. On some level, she acknowledged that his disturbing monologue should have scared her. That his words should have unsettled her, rattling her sense of safety around him, but they had not. Instead, she welcomed them, because they related to something within her.
"You're my sickness…," she repeated.
She lifted her eyes and found the yard empty. She wasn't worried, and it wasn't long before she felt his presence behind her.
"What if she kills me, Draco," she suddenly asked.
"That's not going to happen."
"It could…," she whispered.
His fingers came up to rest along her neck, gliding towards her collarbone and adding pressure.
"Do you want it to…?"
His question held a threatening and malicious undertone, one that did not faze her. Hermione chuckled.
"Once upon a time, I probably did, but no. Not today," she honestly replied.
He leaned down, resting his chin on her shoulder and Hermione exhaled.
"What do you want?"
She turned her head, her lips a hair's width away from his own.
"Right now…"
She hesitated, eyes running over his face.
"…I want you to tell me how you got here. I want to know why you took the mark," she whispered.
"You're awfully curious this evening," he purred.
"I've got nothing better to do than ask questions. It would be stupid to try and leave, and even if I did, where would I go? Your crazy aunt –no offense- is out for blood, and you know what, Draco? She scares me. Bellatrix Lestrange makes my skin crawl. She's deranged, tortured, and sadistic. I don't even want to imagine what she would do if she ever got her hands on me…"
Hermione fully turned around now, leaning her back against the window and looking up at Draco as he towered over her.
"…we're alone here, and I've decided that I want to know everything."
Draco leaned over her, his hand pressed against the wall, the other spread along his hip, pushing his coat back.
"You know why I took the mark."
"…but there has to be more, right? I cannot be the sole reason that you chose this life," she said, disbelieving.
"…and why not?"
Hermione opened and closed her mouth, unsure of how to respond to such a statement. Statement, not a question, because Draco had worded it in such a way that told Hermione that she was, in fact, the sole reason he had taken the mark.
"You told me once…that you didn't trust Dumbledore to give you what you wanted. Me… Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Draco, I was never Dumbledore's to give away. I was never anyone's…"
Hermione looked away from him.
"I could have helped you. I could have given you what you wanted seeing as I'm the only one with the power to do so. You didn't need to trust Dumbledore…"
Her eyes met his.
"…you just needed to trust me."
She stood, brushing past him and making her way downstairs.
"We both know how that would have went, Hermione," Draco called after her, his footsteps right behind her own.
"Yes, it would have been trying…"
She spun around to face him.
"It would have been difficult, obviously, but isn't anything worth fighting for is? All I'm hearing, Draco, is that…you took the easy way out."
"Where was I when 'easy' happened?"
She frowned at him.
"You didn't want to fight for me," she whispered.
"All I've done is fight for you. Why the hell do you think we're here?"
"This is different. It's easy to fight against people who are trying to kill me. It's easy to fight for me when the opponent doesn't give a rat's ass about me. It's not so easy when the opponents are my friends, my family, people who have my best interests at heart," she replied.
She took a step towards him.
"It's not so easy when the battlefield isn't in your territory."
"Do you honestly feel nothing when you kill people?"
"More often than not…"
Hermione glanced down as she processed this. She still drew a blank every time she thought of Lestrange, and she couldn't help but wonder if she too had felt nothing? Or if she did feel something, what was it? Had she been afraid? Had she been angry?
"I don't know how you do it. I don't know how you can just look someone in the face and take their life as if it had always belonged to you to begin with," she whispered.
"You'll find that it has an oddly calming effect."
Her eyes flickered up to connect with his, and she looked away with a sigh.
A part of her knew that when it came down to it, she might just have to kill Bellatrix. She didn't want to, she wished to avoid it as best as possible, but Hermione wasn't naïve. She knew that the only way to stop Bellatrix was to stop her heart. Was it selfish, cowardly even, to want Draco to do it for her? After all, Lestrange's blood was on her hands, not his.
But Draco was the one to bring him there, she thought to herself.
This was true as well. Draco had every intentions of her avenging her parents' death. He had gotten exactly what he wanted. She couldn't help but wonder… Was this a part of his plan, as well? Surely he must have known that Bellatrix would find out some kind of way.
Hermione lifted her eyes again, regarding him in silence.
What could he possibly gain from killing Bellatrix? Or maybe, the better question should be; what could he possibly gain from having her kill Bellatrix?
"What do you feel the other times when you kill people? The incidents that would fall into the 'than not" category?"
"…satisfaction," he answered without hesitation.
He turned to look up at her from his place on the couch.
"Is that what you felt?"
"…I don't remember," she quietly replied.
She wrapped her arms around herself, bringing her legs up to rest her chin on her knees.
"How am I going to fight Bellatrix? I can't even cast a stupid Cruciatus Curse," she mumbled, resting her cheek against her arms to look at him.
A slow smirk danced along Draco's lips and his eyes swirled with amusement, a hidden joke in there somewhere.
"You'd be surprised at the secrets your mind withholds from you."
"Are you ever afraid of him?"
She didn't know what possessed her to ask such a question. Surely, even Draco wasn't completely fearless. Surely, he feared him as much as every other wizard.
"No."
Hermione sat up straight.
"I don't believe you…"
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Why not? What makes him so special? Is he not just like the rest of us?"
No, Hermione wanted to say. He wasn't just like the rest of them. He was a dark wizard who had done the darkest of deeds and split his soul.
"Horcruxes can be destroyed," he said, surprising her.
Her eyes widened as she stared at him, and his smirk grew.
"What? You thought I didn't know?"
"Horcruxes aside, he was still a very skillful wizard before he…damaged what remained of his soul," Hermione said.
"While that may be true…you are not born with skill, Hermione. He's human, just like the rest of us, and that makes him conquerable."
Hermione suddenly looked at him in a new light as she read between his words. She frowned.
"You think Harry's going to beat him? You think he's going to fall…"
"Oh, I'm counting on it," he purred.
"Then…why-."
She cut herself off, certain that she didn't have to clarify any further, but Draco didn't respond. He simply grinned at her before rising and walking into the kitchen, leaving her there to ponder everything.
Hermione ghosted her fingers over his shoulder, close enough to feel him, but far enough away so as to not touch him.
"You're my sickness…"
She recalled the words and lowered her eyes to rest on his face as he turned over to blink up at her. If he was surprised to find her in his bed, and not her own, then he did not show it.
"The Cruciatus Curse… It has little to no effect on you, correct?"
"…depends on who's on the other end of the wand."
His voice was riddled with slight confusion.
"I need to be prepared for the worst. If Bellatrix takes me…"
"She won't."
"…if she does, I refuse to break. I won't give her the satisfaction," she said, recalling Neville's parents.
She shuddered and scooted closer to Draco.
"That gain…learning to withstand it… Is it safe to assume that it did not come without pain?"
"…Yes."
Hermione exhaled a shaky breath.
"I want you to teach me…"
Hermione blinked, eyes focusing in like a lens as the blindfold was gently removed from around her eyes, returning her site back to her. She stared at the modest house before her with a fearful curiosity before shifting her eyes around her. She had no idea where they were, Draco had made sure of that before securing the blindfold. They had apparated, several times actually, cautious in covering their tracks.
She stepped away from Draco as he and Blaise spoke, paying no mind to her as she gazed at the land before her. Wherever they were, it was secluded, that was certain. The house was surrounded by trees, trees which Hermione did not find terrifying, but instead…ethereal.
The leaves that adorned the trees were a vibrant green, and splashes of color infiltrated her vision as flowers of varying colors bloomed along the bushes and edge of the woods. Directly in front of her was a small lake with a dock as white as the moon, and said moonlight reflected off of the water, casting light onto them and the house.
Hermione turned back around and gazed up at the house that she would probably describe as a generous cottage. It wasn't very large, but it did have two stories. It was cream colored with a cobblestone foundation. It was decorated with a brown trimming, the windows and shutters a dull, faded green. It was cute, it was whimsical, and it was a place that Hermione might have read about in a book of fairytales. Except…
This was no fairytale.
She was here because a demented and deranged witch was after her, after her blood.
Bellatrix Lestrange wanted Hermione dead.
In all honesty, Hermione had forgotten about her. Hermione had actually forgotten just who it was that she had killed. The whole ordeal had been such a turning point for her, downright traumatizing, and she had just wanted to forget it. She had wanted to put it behind her. Hermione knew that was impossible, a silly thought even. She was never going to be able to forget about it.
She had taken a life. It did not matter what Lestrange had done to her. It did not matter that some, many, would say that he deserved it. She had taken it upon herself to remove him from this world. What right did she have to make that call? Who was she?
Draco and Blaise's conversation finally pierced her ears.
"…I'll kill her myself, Blaise, I don't care. Family or not…she's a crazy bitch whose husband had it coming."
"…and what are you going to do about…? Are you going to lock her inside? Have her run into the woods like a fearful rabbit?"
"She's going to be safe. That's all that-."
"No," Hermione interrupted.
Her voice caught their attention and they both turned to look at her. Her eyes found Draco's and she held his gaze.
"I'm not going to run."
"Hermione…"
"I said, no. If she finds us, I will not run. What exactly am I running from? The truth? I killed him, Draco. Not Blaise, not you, but me. It was no one but me," she firmly stated.
"I am not going to stand by and let you get yourself killed because of your nobility," Draco spat the word, disgusted.
She rushed towards him and firmly grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her just as he turned back to speak to Blaise. Fire burned in her eyes as she looked up at him.
"I will look her in the face and own up to what I did. Sure, maybe he did have it coming, but it is not my job to play God. It is not my job to be the judge, jury, and executioner. If she wants to attempt to avenge her husband, then she can, she has that right. Will she succeed? I hope not, because I don't plan on going down without a fight."
Draco stared at her, an unfamiliar expression swimming across his features. He said nor did nothing for a while before his fingers finally came up to graze her cheek. He turned to Blaise.
"…well, that settles that, I suppose. You should get back to Ginevra, Blaise."
They both gave each other a firm nod before Blaise disapparated, leaving Draco and Hermione alone.
She heaved a tired sigh as her eyes took in the scenery for a second time, taking in things she had not noticed before. Draco watched her and she took note as he walked around her, stopping to stand behind her, his chest brushing against her back. She did not protest as his hands came up to rest on her shoulders, his fingers kneading the skin through her coat.
"Do you like it?"
His voice was but a whisper within her ear.
"It's…cute. Under different circumstances, I'm sure I would be ecstatic to be in such a place…"
It wasn't a lie. Hermione was never one for flashy things. She loved simplicity, appreciated it even.
"This place…this house was meant to be ours after…," he trailed off, allowing Hermione's mind to fill in the blanks.
She swallowed as she gazed at the abode and was reluctant to admit that…she could see it. She could see Draco carrying her over the threshold, a bundle of white in his arms, and he, a vision in black as always. She could see it, but she could also see it for what it really was. A hideaway, a prison disguised as a fairytale.
Although, she supposed that after everything Draco had done, a modest and secluded life would be all they could have.
She suddenly stepped away from him and slowly turned to face him, eyes lifting to meet his. He gazed at her so intensely, something she should have been used to, but in truth, Hermione would never grow numb to it.
"Why do you want to marry me?"
If Draco was surprised by her question, then he did not show it.
"You're the best," he answered without hesitation.
"So you want a trophy wife, then?"
Draco threw his head back and laughed, a chilling sound. He suddenly sobered up, his eyes fixing on her, tilting his head as if she'd just said the funniest thing.
"You know me better than that, Hermione."
Her name seemed to roll off of his tongue like a purr.
"Pansy is a trophy wife, Daphne is a trophy wife. Astoria, Tracy, Celeste, any other pureblood Slytherin bimbo you can think of. Those are trophy wives. They're dull, they're dumb, and the only thing they're good for is wrapping their mediocre lips around my cock," Draco spat.
Hermione swallowed at the venom within his voice.
"Then...why…? What makes me the best?"
Draco chuckled without humor, his lips curling over his teeth.
"Those girls, and many more like them, are brainless vultures who only care about my name. They would do anything for me…"
He began to pace around her, and Hermione turned her head, never taking her eyes off of him.
"…they would sacrifice any and everything just to be beneath me for one night. Just to claim that they opened their legs for Draco Malfoy. Hell, they'd sacrifice the world just to have my ring on their finger…"
Hermione stared, transfixed, as he continued.
"…I could murder their friends, their entire family right before their very eyes, and they would simply look at me with such devotion and adoration and would say…" he leaned into her ear "…'thank you, Draco'."
"You're awfully…sure of yourself," Hermione breathed.
Draco stopped to stand in front of her, silver eyes matching the moon, his hands disappearing into his pockets. His face was blank, devoid of any trace of humor.
"I speak the truth and we both know it. They would excuse everything I do. They would surrender their dignity, their morals, their opinions, and their minds…their identities, just to keep me on their arm."
Draco scoffed, tilting his head to the side.
"They're…puppets. They're mindless admirers who have no sense of self-worth. They're pitiful," he whispered in amusement.
"…and me? What am I?"
"You're my destruction."
Hermione's eyes widened and Draco chuckled.
"You've taken over every part of me like a fucking parasite."
Hermione took a step back, but Draco followed.
"You've snaked your way inside of me, Hermione. You've taken up residence, and eventually, I just let you stay. I let you grow and spread until you're all I think about. There was a time when I thought about…" he chuckled, shrugging "…just killing you."
Hermione stumbled back at this revelation.
"Surely, that would have been easier. Surely, it would have been so much simpler to just slit your throat, or take the easy way out and use my wand…"
He sighed, a sad sound.
"…but that was a long time ago. I'm past that now. I stopped fighting ages ago and just let you in. However…I still think about wrapping my hands around that pretty little neck. I think about doing it while you're beneath me, bringing you to the edge of both completion and death at the same time. I think about the feel of you tightening around me while your heartbeat slows, the sight of your eyes simultaneously brightening and burning out while I take your life…"
"…I always let go, though. I always allow you to live, handing your life back to you like a gift. It's…surreal, isn't it? The idea of holding someone else's life in your hands, literally. The idea of being in control of that light shining in their eyes."
Draco shook his head, his thumb grazing her cheek now.
"Of course, I would never do that. My heartbeat coincides with your own, and ending your life would mean ending mine too," he whispered.
He leaned in, brushing his lips ever so gently against her cheek.
"You're my sickness that I just can't kill."
Let me know what you think!