A/N: I'm so, so sorry for delivering this chapter so late, but first I had some midterm exams on college and then some other chores and then my laptop died so I had to rewrite the whole chapter when I bought a new one. Sending love, hope that you'll like it!

Chapter 9

Malfoy was furious. He was pacing so quickly, it seemed to Hermione that he would wear a hole in the floor. She was sitting on their bed, still in her dress, afraid to move or make any sound. He still didn't address her and behaved like she wasn't even in the room. The only thing which gave his mood away was his heavy breathing and occasional hold of his aching temples. She waited.

After a couple of long minutes, he finally looked at her like she was some dangerous beast prepared to jump him, first in shock, then in confusion and even in some amazement.

"You... I... Can you just... How?" He managed to rasp his words and Hermione almost smiled. She'd finally managed to leave him completely speechless.

"What?" She asked simply, so dazed with all the events of the evening that she felt a little numb. She didn't care about anything anymore. She failed her only escape attempt and knew this was the end of her life probably. Oh well; at least she tried.

"How on earth did you take Bella's wand?" She opened her mouth to answer him but he interrupted her, clearly talking to himself.

"I knew you were good at wandless magic, but that good? You think you planned all of this well? Well, it certainly was the best plan with your sources but..." He was murmuring like some lunatic and she just kept quiet, trying not to cringe at the stupidity of it all.

"You chose the wand smartly, of course. Bellatrix' wand doesn't have a tracing spell on it, so wherever you went it would be hard to find you. I mean, who would've even thought that someone could disarm the most powerful witch in Britain? We were so careless with her..." He finally stopped his crazed mumbling and looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time in his life.

"Where did your friend go?"

She just looked at him indignantly.

"Where did she apparate, Granger?" He growled and she just shrugged.

"Oh, I know you know, you crazy little bitch." He murmured and looked directly in her eyes, concentrating. He was a very skilled Legilimens, and he didn't care how much he hurt her with his violent entrance into her mind. He felt it, he felt her fight, he felt her trying to get him out but he kept trying to go in. But then something weird happened. He started to roam her brain, and all the things he saw were her reading in his library, her talking to his mother, her fighting with him about some slur about Mudbloods, her enjoying his hands on her body, her afraid to look into his eyes, her excited to feel him inside... She managed to distract him and Draco felt some sharp sting in his temples, so hard that he had to get out of her mind.

Hermione wasn't so good at Occlumency. She could never completely shut her brain off, she could never build a stable wall around her memories, but she learned how to keep important information buried so deep in her brain that even she had problems to recall them. She was taught that while she was in the Order; after all, she had to learn how to shield all the secrets she knew about Harry.

When Malfoy got out of her mind she was breathing heavily, feeling exhausted. He was good at this, actually the best Legilimens she had ever seen. But she was better.

Malfoy was massaging his forehead, also breathing heavily and loathing that damned woman more than ever before. He should have let his men kill her. Why did he save her? It was some weird, impulsive decision and he wasn't prone of doing impulsive. The thought of seeing her dead shook him to his core and it surprised him so much that he didn't even have the time to think, he simply did it. He lied his most loyal people for this Mudblood. He wasn't even sorry she killed aunt Bella. He didn't care about that deranged woman, not ever in his life, but especially after the rise of Voldemort and her pushing his family over the edge, into the abyss of his sickness. Lucius was at fault for that too, but she was the one to bring that vile snake into their home, she was the one to propose for Draco to become a Death Eater. She was the one to turn one teenage boy into a murderer.

Draco exhaled heavily and looked at Granger. She suddenly looked so pathetic in that lavish dress, like some child playing with mother's stuff. In that moment, she didn't look like someone who just killed one of the most powerful witches of this century. She didn't look like someone who ached to run away from him so much, that she was ready to die for it. She simply looked tired and ready for her punishment. Just like a child.

"You'll never tell where she'd run off to?" He tried again, even though he knew the answer.

"So you can kill her for something she didn't do? Not likely." She said her first words in an hour, feeling soreness in her dry throat.

"You'd rather I kill you?" Malfoy gritted through his teeth, and felt fury rising within him once again, when he saw her shrug. She hated living there so much, she'd rather be dead.

"Do you know how lucky you are to be here, alive?! Do you know what would your life look like if you'd married anyone else?!" He shouted, unable to control his temper.

She had decency to avert her empty gaze. But her next words killed him a little.

"Lucky for a prisoner." She whispered, somehow looking detached from everything around her and he felt something terrible, something much worse than usual anger in his chest. Something constricted. Something started to hurt.

Losing all his strength to look at her broken form, he looked through the window. It was starting to snow. So perfect, so unreal and beautiful. Untouched and unsoiled.

"What will happen to me now?" She managed to croak, ignoring pang of something stirring within her while she watched him watch the snow. He looked so perfect, so unreal and beautiful. Except those eyes. Those eyes were soiled with some deep and dark emotion she wasn't able to comprehend.
When he looked at her again, she had an enormous need to hug him, bury her face in his familiar neck and cry herself to sleep. She'd killed a person after so long. She bloodied her hands again. She was afraid of her own thoughts right then. And Malfoy was something real, solid and strong. He was her safety net and her executor. Heaven and hell.

"You will go to sleep, scandalized with the behavior of your servant. It was a tiring day." She understood. He was definitely going to pretend that it hadn't happened. He was going to save her.

Hermione half expected that he was going to join her in their bed, still not completely aware of the things that had happened, but he started towards the door.

"You're not the only prisoner here, Granger." He said quietly, with some weird melancholy lacing his voice. She felt like his piercing eyes were scanning her through her own, like he was staring deep into her soul just by looking at her. And then he disappeared and closed the door behind him.

That night was becoming one of the most tiring ones in his life. After the especially frustrating talk with Granger, he headed straight to the Ministry, to try and use all of his powers to hide the evidence of her stupid crime. He was one of the most important people in the modern wizarding society, yes, but the law had to be obeyed. But he was a Malfoy, and even though he wasn't very proud of his name after his father's misdeeds, he was still aware of his cunning and strong intellect, and he was ready to use all of his abilities. He found those two stupid wizards who actually saw Hermione killing Lestrange easily; they were his people and right now every single one of them was either in the Ministry or in search for escaped Mudblood. Luckily for Draco, those two were in one of the Auror's offices, ready to be interrogated as the only witnesses, except for him of course. But nobody dared to disturb the almighty Master, not when he didn't see it convenient, so he wan't called to the interrogation, of course. He ushered the Aurors outside saying he wanted to look deeper into the crime against his beloved aunt, and just when they obliviously closed the door, he wasted no time and quickly changed the memories of the two idiots. He didn't use the Confundus charm. He simply erased their memories of that moment, planting into their minds much of wine consummation and mixing it with brandy. He smiled at himself unconsciously and called the Aurors back inside, convincing them that he had already finished the job and the two were useless and drunk stupid. He even managed to look angry for wasting time, saying that he was the third witness and he saw his Mudblood servant killing Bellatrix, and that he simply wanted to see why they said it was his wife.

The Aurors kept quiet, but one of them dared to look at him suspiciously. It was a stupid cover, he knew that, but he didn't have the time to persuade them more.

"Look, I saw the Mudblood Kate killing my aunt, I want her found alive and brought to me. I want to personally avenge Bellatrix Lestrange. Don't waste my time with these petty technicalities when you have a murderer on the run. I will send you my memories of the event first thing in the morning," when I change them completely, he wanted to add, "but now I have to deal with other problems first. Got it?"

They only nodded, staying quiet and submissive. Just like he wanted them. He put a mask of a very perturbed man on and hurried out of the office, now trying to avoid all the reporters waiting for him in the hallway. For fuck's sake, it's the middle of the night, do these people ever sleep?!

He stopped trying to run away when he came to peace with the fact that they wouldn't leave him alone, so he gave a quick and messy statement about the Ministry search for the deranged Mudblood.

It was seven in the morning when he finished changing his memory and he was looking at the owl carrying a vial off into the distance.

He was in his father's study, for the first time in years. He hated the place. It reminded him too much of his childhood, of his father locked up in there working, of him going in there only when he was called to receive his punishments for not being the best student, not being the best seeker, not being the best Death Eather.

It was almost poetic, how he braved to come in there only when he finally managed to best everyone else. He firmly believed that people simply saw in him what they wanted to see and he just acted on it and for Draco it really wasn't that big of a deal. When they wanted a leader, the got a leader. When they wanted a tyrant, they got a tyrant. And all of them were sheep. All of the Pureblood ones, anyway. Those Mudbloods, they just had something in them, something wild and impossible to tame, something akin to freedom even when they were forced to be a lower breed. And Purebloods were afraid. And he was afraid. So the best course of action was to simply make them be servants, wives and controllable house beings. He knew that. It was just that after everything, especially after that night, he didn't really believe it.

His head was continuing to ache.

"Draco?" He heard a familiar voice of his mother just before she entered the study in all her grace. Mornings really suited her. He admired the elegance of his mother, her readiness to be calm and collected in any situation. The woman was born ready.

"Yes?" he barely spoke. He was exhausted.

"What are you doing in- you didn't even go to sleep, didn't you?" He heard a well-known reprimand in her voice, and saw her critically looking at his disheveled dress robes and messy hair.

"No, I- I had to go to the Ministry." He uttered, realizing that she had just woken up moments before and probably didn't hear about the ruckus. How was he supposed to tell her that her sister was killed by his wife, he didn't know. Well, better him than Daily Prophet, anyway.

"What did they need you for in the middle of the night?" He heard doubt and dread in her voice.

"Mom... Maybe it's better for you to sit down." Narcissa paled, but obeyed.

He had to do it. "Bellatrix was killed." He said quietly, summoning all the courage he had to look into her eyes.

Narcissa blinked, keeping the blank face on, but one tear rolled down her cheek.

"Who-...?" She croaked and he sighed. He still didn't know if he should lie his mother about her sister's death, but the words tumbled out of his mouth.

"It was our servant Kate, she-"

"Don't lie to me." Narcissa interrupted icily. "It was Hermione, wasn't it?!" She whispered and Draco looked down. He wasn't good at lying his mother.

"The girl's fire." She said and Draco looked at her in awe.

"She killed a demon, Draco. A small Mudblood girl killed a demon." Her voice broke and her face contorted into a painful, ugly expression.

Draco froze, not knowing what to do with himself.

"I love my sister, but I know what she was. I know that she didn't love anyone besides power and glory. And I know that I will never, never forgive her for putting you through all of it and ruining your life." Narcissa suddenly stood up, her grim expression the only telling sign of her grief and rage.

"You're Malfoy, Draco. Don't be a Black. Don't hate your family like we do. Protect it." She whispered and turned to leave, leaving Draco completely speechless.

"I reckon you took care of everything?" She looked at him sharply when she was at the door and he managed to nod. "Good boy."

Narcissa Malfoy left the room, carrying with her a whirlwind of terrible emotions of her pain and anger. How much did she actually grieve for her sister was a mistery to anyone but her own self. She wept in her pillow the whole day and following night.

Draco managed to stay in his father's study just an hour more, contemplating his mother's words before going to bed. He was in desperate need for sleep, and for some reason which he didn't want to contemplate, he went straight for his and Hermione's bedroom. He found her weeping on the floor and sighed, detached from everything due to his serious lack of sleep. His muddled brain thought it was a great idea to simply scoop her up, ignoring her scared expression and carry her to bed, curling beside her trembling form and stroking her shoulder while he slowly drifted to sleep. If she didn't wanted to be there, well, too bad for her. Because he knew he wanted her right there beside him.

He wasn't aware how much that simple act of kindness calmed Hermione's raging nerves. She wasn't brave anymore. All of her courage dissipated with life of that psychotic woman. But still, it had been so long since her last kill. And she hated taking someone else's life. She hated being someone's god and punishment. She didn't want that kind of the power. And every single one horrible person she killed was still playing with her bruised conscience. Malfoy was helping her so much in that moment. He was so merciful to remind her that maybe she wasn't a monster, that maybe she was unlike Bellatrix. That maybe killing someone so ugly and evil was nothing more than a good deed.

She fell asleep with that thought calming her and when she woke up it looked like it was afternoon. Malfoy was softly snoring in her ear, his breath calming her racing mind, and when she slowly turned she saw the source of her interrupted sleep. There on the window was a strange-looking, small bird carrying a little peace of parchment. It was pale brown and it definitely wasn't even similar to owls.

Hermione frowned, slowly getting up, careful not to disturb a sleeping form beside her and very slowly opened the window. She barely managed to take a folded peace of parchment from the bird when it quickly flied off, not waiting for an answer.

That's weird, Hermione thought to herself while looking at the thing in her hand. It wasn't parchment, she realized then. It was a lined paper, ripped from a notebook. Muggle.

Hermione's heart raced when she quickly unfolded the paper. It simply said:

''LL, NL.

Go to the young widow.

Sending love from Toblerone place."

She had read it a couple of times more before simply producing a blue flame and setting it on fire. It was clearly a message from Kate. She used a Muggle brand of chocolate to describe it, knowing that the wizards don't have a clue what it is.

So she managed to survive. Hermione smiled to herself, but the rest was troubling her. What did those first letters mean? And who was the widow?

Hermione's train of thought was interrupted with the deep, croaky voice of her husband.
"What are you doing there? Did I trust you not to throw yourself out the window only for you to do it now?" He said it and yawned and Hermione turned to look at him, acting sleepy and melancholic.

"Nothing. I needed some fresh air. It stopped snowing." She said and went to the bathroom. Draco frowned at the snowy landscape and turned on the other side, ready to sleep just a little bit more.