'Snape killed Dumbledore'
Silence.
Cold, horrible, inaudible, impenetrable silence was swimming around Hermione's ears and all she could hear was the beating of her own blood in her head. Her temples were throbbing with pain and she could feel a gash on her cheek, from which blood was spurting but suddenly none of it mattered.
But it wasn't cruel heartless, greasy haired Snape Hermione was thinking of, her mind traced back over Harry's words. He had sat in that very chair and rubbed his temples and said, 'Malfoy came in a disarmed him.'
Draco.
'Lucius Malfoy?' Hermione hissed to Tonks, the young woman narrowed her eyes with hate- her own small pale face covered in splattered dry blood so it looked like she'd fallen down on the quidditch pitch and her shoulder length mousy hair was clinging limply and wet to it.
'No. His son' She mouthed, her attention seemed to fixed elsewhere.
It was then when Hermione knew things could not get much worse.
She shook her head slowly from side to side, thanking Merlin that everybody else was too concerned with Harry or Bill to notice her. She held her head underneath her hair and felt tears welling up inside her. Her heart had broken at the news of Dumbledore's death, he was a fantastic man and how it had happened she would never no- he was more than a match for Snape…but the fact that he had been at Draco's mercy.
Her Draco, her good Draco, for she knew somewhere deep down he must be. If he wasn't then why didn't he finish off Dumbledore while he had the chance? He had to be good somewhere.
Her Draco had sent Dumbledore to his death. He wasn't her Draco anymore.
She had to sit down, but all the seats were occupied with either Tonks, leaning over and looking into Bills shallow wilted face with worry or on the other side with Lupin- looking across Bill at Tonks- with equal worry.
Her legs buckled underneath her and she took the opportunity to lower herself to the floor, crossing her legs uncomfortably underneath her and burying her head in her hands.
Her love wasn't enough.
He sat, in the pitch black impenetrable darkness, his robes pulled tight around his knees. The night was resisting to give in to morning, and the cold was biting at his cheeks and fingers, his white blonde hair obscuring his vision and hallow grey face. His eyes lifeless, he let the tears come. For he knew they would come some time.
They had to.
His legs ached with exhaustion, and his whole body longed for the fire in the Slytherin Common Room, somewhere to curl up and be safe. He was anything but safe.
She'd know soon.
A bird rustled the trees above him and an owl hooted in the distance, somewhere people were talking and laughing, most likely Muggles clinking drinking classes and toasting each other drunkenly. Draco was alone.
She'd know soon.
His thoughts flew automatically to the Dark Lord, and he shook with apprehension and blatent fear, he didn't want to die. Not without explaining to her.
She'd know by now. Potter would have told her, he was sure he was there- in that stupid invisibility cloak. Potter didn't think he knew about it, but everyone in the school knew- one of those stupid school secrets that everybody passes around and speculates about. He'd never here a school secret again.
He should have listened to her, he could have backed out back on that night on the astronomy tower, he shuddered again, she'd have protected him.
He closed his eyes and conjured up her face in his mind, her tanned freckled skin and warm hazel eyes, her messy curly hair and reckless fiery nature, it was enough almost to warm him for
a few moments until another gust of wind made him shudder with cold again.
Her love could have saved him
'Hermione?' McGonagall said looking down at the shrunken girl at her feet. She looked up, her face blood splattered and tear stained, 'Dear- Its time to go to bed'
'I can't sleep tonight' she replied faintly drawing her self up and walking to the window, staring weakly out at the stars.
'I know its very sad,' said McGonagall putting her hand on Hermione's shoulder who automatically stiffened, 'But you must get some sleep'
'Do you think he's out there too? Looking at the stars?' Hermione whispered almost inaudibly.
'I'm sure he is dear, wherever he is now.' She said warmly.
Hermione just smiled apathetically. She hadn't meant Dumbledore.
Her love had never been enough.
Her love didn't save him from the dark lord.
Her love didn't save her from him.
Love alone just wasn't enough.