Author's note

WARNING

Some of you may find elements of what happens in this chapter distasteful. This chapter explains the prologue from Hermione's POV but you have been warned- she has done something morally very dubious.

Chapter 29- A small piece of my love.

A small number of things were required for Hermione to bring her plan to fruition; access to the Malfoy library, which would not be a problem, a small piece of Draco's flesh or hair and the opportunity to speak to Lucius alone to persuade him to procure the most difficult item on her list a fresh cadaver.

"Are you insane?" Lucius demanded when she finally cornered him in a secluded corner of the manor and outlined her plan. "Whilst I admire the audacity of your plan I cannot acquire carcasses like candy my dear," he cautioned, "and despite what you might think of me I do not kill unless I must."

Hermione was not however to be easily dissuaded.

"But can you do it?"

"Perhaps," he finally conceded, "when?"

"I need a little time," she told him, "but the cadaver must be very fresh otherwise this will not work."

He nodded in understanding and walked away.

The policy juice potion was ready now all she needed was the body, impatiently she awaited Lucius' input into the plan.

"We need to act with all haste," she said with urgency as she heard the pop of apparition behind her. She eyed the body of the man with dirty blond hair with distaste. He was a fresh kill she knew the body still warm the blood across his face not yet congealed. She didn't want to know who he was or how Lucius had come by the body, she didn't want to think about it and she didn't have time.

"Hold him," she ordered the older man as she moved to pour the potion down the dead man's throat. Knowing he would not swallow she flicked her wand to force the contraction of his oesophagus so the potion went down. Hermione bit her lip knowing that without some residue of the man's life force this would not work. She couldn't bear to consider the implications of what she was doing. This was someone else's love sacrificed to save her own. Would she ever be able to live with that knowledge?

Hermione continued to watch as her conscience troubled her. Slightly more slowly than was usual the transformation began, his hair colour brightened to a lighter blond, his waist narrowed, his shoulders broadened, his limbs lengthened. Hermione sucked in her breath as she saw before her something she hoped never to see again; the dead body of her husband. All it had taken was a strand of Draco's hair the smallest piece of her love. She hoped it would be enough to save him.

She slipped the Malfoy ring onto the dead man's hand before lifting the dead weight so that one arm was across her shoulder. She nodded to Lucius in acknowledgement before she disappeared to leave the body where she knew it would immediately be discovered.

Hermione entered the room creating the persona of The Dark Lady, calling upon the tongues of shadow to swirl around her, creating an air of menace and malevolence that befitted her new status as Voldemort's lieutenant.

"I wanted him conscious," she snarled at the underlings who held the limp form of the pollyjuice transformed stranger before her.

She grabbed his chin. Inwardly she wanted to weep, imagining what it might be like if she had been forced to do this for real. There was no movement, nothing; not a flicker of life or recognition but there wouldn't be would there? She told herself He was already dead. Now Hermione had a convincing act to put on, an audience to entertain. It would need to be the performance of her life and no matter how distasteful she might find what she needed to do she could not balk at her task.

"Pity," she purred at the uncaring figure before her, "so handsome, such power and promise, reduced to this – and for what?"

It was a rhetorical question she expected no response and inwardly she despised the sycophantic laughter that rippled around the room. Was his suffering some joke to them all? She let go his head it lolled to one side-seemingly too far gone to know or care. She stretched out a hand tendrils of shadow rippled down his blood soaked shirt tearing it asunder. Invisible cold hands cut across his throat but she knew he felt nothing. She hoped that all those around her saw was that 'Draco Malfoy' was as good as gone.

"Such a pity I don't have more time to play Draco," she said in a sickly sweet voice, "I'm sure we could have had such fun you and I. I would have enjoyed a little pay back." The last phrase she said with such venom some of those assembled flinched. Her voice rose as the shadows she carried with her gathered around her latest victim.

"So unresponsive, how rude Draco and I was sure you had such exquisite manners."

She sighed changing tone and persona hinting at the first signs of madness.

"I would have so enjoyed seeing your face as this 'filthy little mud-blood' ripped out your throat."

As she intended her act cause those Death Eaters gathered, the sane ones at least, to still with fear in her presence. Preternatural stillness held the room as she acted the deranged witch and continued her 'interrogation'.

"What's that you say?" She asked making it seem as if she expected an answer, "too quick, not painful enough to repay you what I owe?"

Some now watched enthralled with the thrill of her anticipated bloodlust as she continued her monologue. They disgusted her, vile, foul beings, how could they be considered superior? At least Nott, one of Draco's oldest friends looked shame faced as if he was struggling to watch.

"You're right Draco darling, you deserve more," she continued as if addressing a small child.

"MORE pain, MORE suffering," she yelled before concluding with low menace.

"YOU-DESERVE-TO-BURN!" she punctuated every word for emphasis.

"Like the phoenix perhaps you will be reborn," she muttered these last words seemingly to herself, to give the appearance that all vestige of sanity was gone.

Steeling herself for the horror she would now perform, reminding herself that the body before her was beyond caring and that it was not really Draco, she summoned her power. Flames formed at her finger tips growing in intensity as she sucked more power towards herself.

"Your sweet pure blood will boil, your beautiful alabaster skin will blister and blacken and I will enjoy every moment of your agony."

White hot flame shot towards the beautiful form before her. She wanted to retch as the stench of burning flesh filled the space. She dare not look away, dare not break character as she watch 'Draco's' handsome face melt, his fine platinum blond hair singe and flare as tongues of fire raged around him. Resuming her manic persona Hermione circled the pyre like carrion as she immolated her victim all the while maintaining a mask of cold indifference.

It was done she prayed it was convincing because she knew this act would haunt her all her days.

"The ring"- she gestured to the hand of the now blackened heap before her – "clean up the mess." She took the Malfoy family ring and apparated away. Multiple pops of apparition sounded in her wake.

"My Lord it is done," Hermione announced to Voldemort as they all reappeared before him. She didn't even bother to bow daring to creating an air of arrogance.

"And the body?" Voldemort hissed.

"Vaporised," she told him calmly, "but I assure you he is dead as many here witnessed and I brought a small souvenir." She held out the Malfoy family ring.

"I see," Voldemort said rather tartly.

Voldemort held out his hand for the ring, examined it then, satisfied it was indeed Draco's ring, he threw it aside and disappeared through a veil of black mist.

With Voldemort gone Hermine knelt to reclaim the ring. Slipping onto her right index finger, raising it to gently caress the ring with her lips fighting to hold back the tears from the horror of what she had just done.

Author's note

So why we know why Hermione 'killed' Draco at the start but will they get away with their deception?