AN: Hello there guys! I have a couple of things to say before we get on with the story.
First, this is sort of a filler chapter, I know. But I think I need it for character development. This is a story that started in Year 4 - it has at least four more years of school to go. And it seems to me that chapters are getting longer and longer :) This one was a difficult chapter to write, because somehow in the middle Hermione's emotions became my own and I struggled to disentangle them. I don't know how successful I was.
Second, I mixed up the book and the movie versions of the Yule Ball. It fit better to what I had in mind, so you may recognize one part of the dialogue between Ron and Hermione from the movie.
Third, meldz (who is apparently a mind reader), here's the dress I imagined for Hermione. I think it fits her, do you like it? Thank you for your continuous support :)
parisgirl17. files. wordpress 2011/ 01/ img_8915. jpg?w=370&h=
Fourth, thanks to all of you who reviewed, followed and favourited the story. You are awesome!
Fifth, and final - I apologize for any mistakes you may find in the text. I've been up all night writing it, and my proof-reading may be a bit off. I'll do it again... sometime.
Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to J. K. Rowling. I do not own an Elie Saab dress either, sadly. I am envious of anyone who does, though.
Chapter Seven
***DaB***
December 25th, 1994
It took her three hours to get herself ready. She had to use about a dozen charms to paint her face in what her Mother always jokingly referred to as 'woman's warpaint'. On top of that, she almost emptied a bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to tame her mane of hair, which was now elegantly put up in a bun. Ginny helped her with the dress – it was difficult pulling the zipper in the back and arranging all the layers so they wouldn't move.
Hermione Granger looked herself in the mirror, and for the first time in her life, she felt truly beautiful.
When she went shopping for the formal dress during the summer, she regarded it as another pointless, time-consuming necessity, for why should one spend so much time on a piece of clothing that is only to be worn once? Her Mother had to convince her to by the pinkish – peachy – sparkly dress, and she was immensely grateful for that now.
Ginny took a picture with her camera, and Hermione made a mental note to charm the picture later so it wouldn't move when she gave it to her parents. Even though they were, over the course of past three years, slowly adapting to the fact that their daughter was a witch, Robert and Helen Granger were still a tad uneasy with the whole concept of magic. Hermione preferred not to push them too far and too fast.
"You look lovely, Hermione. Krum is going to be acting like he'd been hit with a Stunning Spell when he sees you!"
Ginny's words made Hermione blush, and she returned the compliment to the younger witch, who looked beyond her age in a dark green gown, with her fiery hair down and full make up on her face. Hermione was extremely happy that Ginny was able to go to the ball, although the ginger was not too keen on her partner. She still carried the torch for Harry, but Hermione knew he wasn't interested, if the looks he was giving to Cho Chang were anything to go by. Hermione, on the other hand, was pretty sure that Neville Longbottom may have some dormant feelings for the youngest Weasley, although she doubted he would ever act on it. It was Neville – his shyness and awkwardness were somewhat legendary around the school. Hermione agreed with the popular opinion more often than not, even though on certain occasions she felt as if there was more to Neville than people thought. She just couldn't put her finger on what it was – not yet, anyway.
"Come on now, Hermione. The boys have already left so nobody's going to bother you, and you need to meet Krum in ten minutes. Merlin, I can't wait to see him dressed in formal wear!"
Hermione chuckled softly as she followed her friend down the stairs and out the Common Room, where they met with Neville. He looked quite lovely in his new wizard robes that could put any boy to shame, and he smiled timidly and somewhat nervously when he saw Ginny. Then he turned to Hermione and his eyes bulged.
"Hermione? Is that... Hermione?"
Hermione laughed gingerly at the look of utter amazement on Neville's face.
"Yes, it is me. You look handsome Neville."
Neville just blinked; apparently, the change was way too much for him. His eyes slid to ample amount of cleavage Hermione showed in her new dress, and his cheeks turned sickly pinkish rue. Ginny noticed it too and elbowed him in the gut not-so-discreetly.
Hermione felt the urge to laugh as she gathered the bottom of her sparkling dress in her hands and turned away.
"I have to go meet my date guys, I'll see you later!"
With a final, small wave to her friends, Hermione left them and set course to meet with Viktor in the lobby.
Descending down flights of stairs, she heard quite a few whispers and surprised gasps directed towards her and her looks, and it slowly began to irritate her. Apparently, Hogwarts population did not expect the Gryffindor Know-It-All to hide some good looks behind those brains. The shallowness of people always got to her, ever since she was a little girl with much too big front teeth. So, after she heard a whispered 'Is that Hermione Granger over there?' for a tenth time, she forced herself to turn her train of thoughts to a much more pleasant direction – Viktor Krum.
Hermione was surprised when he approached her in the library, not really knowing what to do or say as he sat down next to her behind the stack of books on Arithmancy she had sprawled before her. She thought he must have confused her with someone else, but as they started talking, hesitantly at first, Hermione found herself becoming more and more fascinated with the Bulgarian Quidditch player as the time passed.
Hermione was never a big fan of Quidditch, and she always zoned out when Harry and Ron started talking about it, so she automatically presumed that Krum would be somewhat similar. It was a fair point – she knew showing off you best qualities in front of a new acquaintance for the purpose of them taking a liking at you was an accepted and encouraged social norm since... probably ever. However, she somewhat incredulously noted that after three hours of conversation Quidditch did not come up once.
Viktor Krum was much more than just an athlete – he was a smart, somewhat shy young man with a passion for history and mythology. He was quite familiar with Muggle and Wizard historical topics both, and Hermione was delighted to recognize the sparkle in his eyes when he talked about the ancient myths; it was the same one she sported when excited about something.
Their little rendezvous' continued throughout the week, and Hermione kept it a secret from everyone except Ginny, because it all seemed too good to be true, and she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was still pretty self-conscious, because she did not know what Viktor saw in her. She was the regular plain Jane, and he was just... fascinating. So she guarded herself and her heart carefully, her mind working itself into a frenzy every time she started analyzing her relationship with the handsome Bulgarian.
During all that time, Hermione was also actively and carefully ignoring those two other things (persons, to be more specific) that were on her mind more often than she would willingly admit. It made her distracted and less observant than usual. Add in her lack of sleep and her sheepish nature, and it was no wonder she missed the obvious clues. So when on Saturday, as they were discussing the differences between the Roman and Slavic languages, Viktor put his hand on hers and looked at her expectantly, she was taken aback.
"Hermonny, vill you go to the Yule Ball viff me?"
And as Hermione stared into his dark, almost black eyes, she was too stunned to correct his adorable mispronunciation, to say anything really, except "Why?"
Viktor smiled and grasped her fingers tightly in his warm hand, covering them completely with his. She could feel the calluses from the broomstick, and it reminded her of some other fingers that grabbed hers some time ago on top of the Astronomy Tower. Long, silvery, aristocratic fingers not used to any hard work, whose touch send her body into-
No.
"Because, Hermoninny, you charmed me from the first moment I saw you. You vere beautiful in a most unconventional vay. You never asked for autograph, and you veren't impressed by the fame and the glamour of Viktor Krum, the famous Seeker. So I paid attention, and listened to you talk, and you vere as smart as you vere beautiful. I have been here in the library ever since, trying to find courage to talk to you, but I never did, until now. So, vill you go to the Ball viff me?"
And in that moment, Hermione thought that she may have fallen a little for the older, beautiful boy. So she forced herself to concentrate on his dark eyes (not baby blue, not grey iron) and voiced her agreement. The smile Viktor gave her kept her awake for the better portion of that night.
"Hermoninny, you look beautiful!"
A voice snapped her out of her musings, and she noticed that Viktor was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. The smile on his face was dazzling, and in that moment, Hermione forgot how she wanted someone else to ask her, and allowed Viktor to take her hand.
"You look dashing yourself, Viktor! I never knew red suited you so – you probably would have been a Gryffindor, if you went to Hogwarts."
He laughed, a rusty yet hearty laugh, and wiggled his eyebrows.
"Let's go, Hermonny. I vant to dance viff you tonight, all night."
Hermione gave him another dazzling smile, feeling like Cinderella who got her Prince Charming for the first time in her life. As they made their way into the Great Hall, the whispers did not stop and she heard her name uttered many times, most of it in a rudely incredulous manner. It almost got to her, the blatant disregard of proper decorum and the subtle innuendos that left her feeling like an ugly duckling, but then Viktor squeezed her hand and she straightened her posture, deciding to enjoy the night.
As Hermione looked around, she noticed some of her friends were already there. She spotted Ron, his face visible over the crowd, but it was for a fleeting moment only, too quick to assess his feelings as Viktor's hand on her back guided her into the line in which all the Triwizard Champions stood. Cedric gave her an appraising glance and winked at her, as Cho openly stared, her mouth open in an unflattering expression of shock. Fleur Delacour barely looked at her, too busy complaining about anything and everything to her date, Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain Roger Davis, who just stared at Fleur, awestruck. Finally, she spotted Harry and Parvati and waved at them. In that moment Viktor almost tripped and cursed in Bulgarian, which made her giggle. He looked at her with stars in his eyes and Hermione just laughed happily, until her eyes met with his.
Malfoy's formal dark grey dress robes made his face look even more serious and patrician, his eyes stormy oceans she couldn't read. Their eyes met for only a moment, but Hermione shivered and her smile faltered a little, as an unexpected wave of electric currency coursed through her body. She peeled her eyes away from his as Professor McGonagall called for the Champions to assume dancing positions.
After the cold grey, the darkness of Victor's eyes was welcome and soothed her a little, and as his arms circled her waist and her lips pulled up in a smile, she could feel the fire almost going away.
Almost.
*DaB*
As the night progressed, her self control slowly slipped. Hermione thought the strange uneasiness she felt would go away throughout the night, but it never did. It wasn't an ache; it was more of an uncomfortable omnipresence that left her feeling strangely wanton. What for, she could not, and would not think about, at least not until the night was over and she was safely tucked away in her bed.
Weird Sisters were playing and the crowd was wild, moving, jumping, dancing like crazy. She was in the middle of it - Viktor twirled her around until she got dizzy, all the colours and patterns merging into one. All the faces became one nameless person, and her heartbeat wildly accelerated. She thought it would go away if she exhausted her energy levels to a maximum, but it only served to make her more agitated.
I can't hold it in.
Ever since she saw Malfoy with Parkinson on his arm, she burned inside, and with every whiplash of emotion it was getting more and more out of her control. All the emotions twirled around inside her body in a rhythm much faster and much more dangerous than anything she ever experienced.
Happiness of dancing with Viktor, feeling safe in his arms.
Anger over Ron's mean jabs directed at anything and everything about her that night.
Arousal over Viktor's closeness that she wouldn't admit to.
Bewilderment because of Malfoy's eyes following her wherever she went.
Anxiety over the amount of attention she was receiving from the whole student body.
Disappointment over Harry's lack of support while Ron was downright insulting her.
Desire.
Want.
Need.
Hermione thought she was going to ignite as her insides felt like unpleasant, alive entity of their own. She was hot, painfully so, and she was slowly losing her grip. The scents were overwhelming her, and her thoughts were going wild over the past hour, remembering the incident in the Room of Need. How she exploded. How they both did. She was afraid, and she wanted to find Professor Dumbledore and ask him what to do, but he was nowhere to be found. So she pushed it all down as best as she could, and she prayed.
Oh God please, please don't let me explode.
Hermione could feel Malfoy's eyes on her the whole time – it was as if she could sense him. She was tired and frustrated and horny and happy, all at the same time, and it was too much. She took breaks often, in order to calm herself, and Viktor went to get her drinks a couple of times as she waited for him on the massive Hogwarts doorstep, hoping that the cold would somehow tame the flames. Alas, it was all in vain – the spark only dwindled temporarily, and came back with more intensity every time she stepped inside and felt the iron weight of his look descend upon her.
Hermione wanted to talk to Malfoy, but she knew she couldn't without compromising every secret they've sworn not to reveal. Not here, and not now. So she counted to ten and willed herself to calm down every time, and accepted Viktor's hand and the drinks he gave her and the invitations to dance, and she prayed and prayed and prayed in her head.
Oh God oh God please don't let me explode.
The party was slowly dying out, and finally the clock struck midnight. Most of the students were exhausted and currently saying goodbye to their dates from other Schools and Houses as they made their way back to their dorms and accommodations. Viktor asked her to walk with him for a moment before they said their goodbyes, as he was ordered by Karkaroff to go to bed as soon as possible. Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then she saw Malfoy and Parkinson making their way towards the dungeons, and she hastily agreed, allowing Viktor to lead the way once again.
Viktor's fingers held Hermione's, his calloused hands providing little comfort for her inner storm. They found a quiet spot in one of the hallways, and Hermione concentrated on breathing slowly and controlling the turmoil inside her as Viktor stopped and turned to face her.
"I had a great time tonight, Herrmoiny."
Viktor's voice was soft, the only background noise being the distant chatter of the other students leaving. Hermione forced herself to look him in the eyes, and as she did, his lips slowly touched hers.
Too stunned to do anything, Hermione closed her eyes.
His lips were soft and they felt nice against her oversensitive ones, already swollen from biting on them the whole night. It was awkward and wet and clumsy, and Hermione felt herself blush. But then Viktor hugged her and held her close, one of his hands making its way into her hair as the other one held her waist, and Hermione felt Viktor smile into the kiss. She felt uneasy and uncertain, but then she decided not to care for at least one bloody second and she put her arms around his neck and just let herself enjoy being kissed for the first time in her life.
After a short while they broke the kiss and just looked at each other, still hugging. Hermione was at a loss for words for a moment, but observing the radiant happiness on Viktor's face, she willed the offensive thoughts that attacked her from every side to stay hidden for just a moment more.
"Thank you," she said, and he just smiled and took her hand, leading her back to the entrance hall.
There weren't many people there anymore, and Karkaroff was waiting with other Durmstang students. He nodded briefly to Hermione, and said something to Krum in Bulgarian. Viktor kissed her hand once more, and with a promise to find her tomorrow, he was gone.
Hermione leaned back against the wall. She was finally alone, and she could finally think, and maybe process all that happened and that she felt and thought. Her restraint was rapidly crumbling with every passing second, and she prayed nobody would find her now, when she so desperately needed to let go. Room of Need was too far away for her, but maybe, if she just took a moment to gather herself –
"Having fun, Hermoninny?"
Ron's voice floated to her, and she sighed. Ron always had bad timing, and now... now was the worst possible moment to start anything with her. Couple of students rushed from the outside, giggling and hurrying up the stairs, oblivious of the quarrel that was about to take place between two best friends.
"What do you want Ronald?"
Hermione turned to her friend. The look in Ron's eyes was hateful, and it surprised her so much her tone came out harsher than she intended it to. It did not stop him, though – he was never very good with any sort of allusions, subtle or not.
"You know he's using you, right?"
Hermione was tired, and cranky, and sick of it all. Everything she'd been feeling for the whole bloody night was coming down on her full force, and she clenched her fists in order to calm herself. She couldn't, no, wouldn't allow herself to let go now.
I may hurt him.
The thought frightened Hermione instantly, and she used all of her self control in delivering her response. It did not mean she was not mad at Ron and appalled by his vicious taunts.
"How dare you Ron! Besides, I can take care of myself!"
Ron smirked at her, his face contorting in an unflattering way. She could slowly feel the inferno in her rising, crawling to its boiling point, and she was losing the battle with herself. Hannah Abbot and Ernie McMillan chose that moment to emerge from the Great Hall, and one look at Hermione was enough for them both to know not to meddle. Hurried steps of two Hufflepuffs rushing up the stairs couldn't hush Ron's words, as loud as they were.
"Doubt it. He's way too old."
Hermione felt rage building up, and the need to defend Viktor and herself consumed her. She could yell at him, hit him below the belt, abuse the power of her friendship. She knew his Achilles heel; she had known it for a long time, but in that moment it dawned on her. She could tell him what a smart and rich individual Viktor was, how so much better and more successful than Ron he was in any aspect, but she bit on her lip at the last moment to prevent the spiteful words from pouring out. Hermione knew that, were she to say it, their friendship may never be the same, and there may never be a chance for anything more to develop. She pierced her lip with the force of her bite, but thankfully the words that came out were not the cruel insults she had prepared, but a mere incredulous question she already knew the answer to.
"What? That's what you think?"
"Yeah, that's what I think."
Ron shrugged offhandedly, and somehow that made Hermione even angrier.
How dare he offend her date? How dare he belittle her so, insinuating that nobody would be interested in her without hidden agenda? How dare he? Was she worth so very little in his eyes? Was she worth so very little to him? Was she... was she worth so very little to everybody?
Hermione took a deep breath, preventing the waterworks that threatened to surface from her haunted, tired eyes.
"You know the solution, then, don't you?"
Ron looked puzzled, and she rhythmically clenched and unclenched her fists in order not to just jump at him and scream the truth he was so oblivious to into his face.
She wanted to punch him and hurt him and hug him and kiss him and make him understand.
"Next time there's a ball pluck up the courage to ask me before someone else does! And not as a last resort!"
There.
She said it.
She wanted Ron to ask her to the Ball.
She admitted what she had been reluctant to acknowledge even when she was alone with her thoughts, tossing and turning in her bed. Hermione wanted to go with him, because, for some strange reason, she felt butterflies whenever he was around. There was a certain passion to him that she admired greatly, and even though she found some of his habits bothersome, she still loved watching him enjoy his food, flying, or just playing Wizard Chess with Seamus or Dean or Harry – the passion there was overwhelming and heart-warming at the same time. In those moments, she saw a whole new side of him, something better and bigger than she ever could imagine, and it made Hermione love him in a slightly different way than she loved Harry.
But as Ronald started mumbling something about her being off the point, Hermione knew she should've known better as her heart broke a little in disappointment.
He doesn't understand. But then again, he never does.
As Hermione's head began to swirl, there was only place for one horrifying thought.
I've reached my breaking point.
Before she could react in any way, Harry came around the corner in that moment. The walls around her blurred and sharpened, and as Harry asked some inane and pointless question, oblivious to everything that was happening to her and of her feelings towards Ron and the whole situation in general, just made her break down in hysterics.
"Off to bed, both of you, this instant!"
She yelled at them, misdirecting her anger, but for once in their lives they obliged and ran away from her, up the stairs.
As their footsteps grew more distant, Hermione started shaking, spasms rocking her body and making her gasp and cry for air.
"Oh God, no, not now," she mumbled, frantically turning to see if anyone was there. There was no noise coming from the Great Hall and she assumed everyone had gone.
She was all alone, and she was going to explode.
Hermione started sweating, her palms slippery. Her heart was speeding up, banging in her chest like a battle drum. The room started to slowly spin, and she closed her eyes as she willed her unresponsive body to move, to run, to stop shaking. Any movement would be of great importance, because then she would know she was still in control. She would know that her basic motor functions were still a part of her, that she could consciously control her body, if not her mind. It would mean that she was still herself, and not this wreckage of energy about to self-destruct any moment now.
Her body wouldn't move an inch, and Hermione felt as if someone punched her right in the chest.
She started hyperventilating.
"Oh God please no."
Incoherent thoughts mused together as Hermione clutched her hands to her chest, involuntary move making her almost lose her footing. She heard a rip, and it must've been her dress, but she was too far gone to worry about that now. Her eyes danced around, searching for an exit, but there was nothing. She was alone and helpless, and more afraid than she ever was. She was unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to think, and the feeling of losing control over your mind and body and being aware of it overtook her in all its bloodcurdling, spine-chilling, dreadful grandeur.
She was going to implode, flesh and bones disintegrating until there was nothing left of her.
She was going to explode, and she was going to take the world with her and burn burn burn it until there was nothing left of it.
Her mind was not hers to command anymore, and it hurt, it hurt feeling her body yet being unable to produce a single, willing movement. It was insanity and freedom and dread, and the sheer intensity of emotions was enough to push her over the edge.
Nobody could save her because there was no one there.
Maelstrom of her thoughts dragged her further in, and with little mind she had left she knew she was experiencing a full-on panic attack, with a little something to spice it up – the everlasting fire inside her blood, the secret ingredient turning out to be poison at its finest – and alive.
It was alive, with a mind of its own, and it hurt her badly, its nails like needles prodding and stabbing from the inside, screaming and demanding to be let out, to be allowed to destroy everything; to make her implode and explode and take everything with her to the pit of nothingness she was bound to end up in.
A hand grabbed hers and pulled her to the Great Hall, breaking her out from the trance. Hermione saw herself move and felt nothing as she was being pushed into the Great Hall. Screaming in her head mixed with other noises – are there any other noises but the voices inside my head – and when she looked up, it was Draco Malfoy, and he was magnificent.
it's all gonna burn
we'll burn it
I'll burn it
burn burn burn
Malfoy's face was determined, no traces of hesitation on his pale cheekbones. His eyes scanned the environment as he let go of her hand once they were inside. Hermione dazedly grabbed a chair for support – no, the thing inside did, it's not my mind, it's not me, it's not me – because her legs were not functioning properly. He closed the doors with a swish of his wand and muttered a Muffiliato charm, and then he turned to her.
His face was haunted, and scared, oh God, how scared he was! There was a bright light surrounding him, or were her eyes just deceiving her, giving up on one sense she still had as her own?
"Don't do this to me Granger, not now, not here!"
Hermione wanted to tell him it wasn't her, it isn't her, and why is he alright when she is about to vanish from existence, are they not bound and connected? Does he not feel the pain she feels? She wanted to talk, to tell him to call for help, to tell him to run, she really did, and she tried and tried but she couldn't. It was getting more and more difficult just to breathe, and her vocal chords were not hers anymore, the thing inside her has it.
get out of me get out get out
no no no
burn burn burn
we are going to die
Hermione knew she was sobbing and whimpering, she knew her eyes were full of tears because her vision blurred and then sharpened again when she blinked, and those horrid noises could only be her own, needed to be her own, and she fought to say something but not a word came out. Malfoy was looking more and more scared by the moment, and he grabbed her by the arms and shook her roughly, his voice manic and raging, much like his eyes.
"Come on Granger, control it, I know you can!"
Hermione shook her head, pleading with him to understand, to make it stop, to make it hurt less. She wasn't herself anymore, and he almost saved her, but he didn't and in the end it didn't matter because –
burn burn burn
She screamed – the thing, not her, never her, the thing screamed – as knifelike bolts of pain spread throughout her body unexpectedly, and every nerve and muscle fibre felt as though it was set on fire. She could feel it, she could feel everything. The tendons and the bone marrow and the soft tissue and the cells ablaze, and it hurt, it hurt, oh God how it hurt!
"Can't... hold... in!"
In a moment of insanity she managed to push the words out, and the amount of energy she used pushed her whole body into another trembling vertigo. She opened her eyes, and the look on Malfoy's face was one of horrified awe. Hermione started to vibrate from the inside as the quivering intensified, and she knew she was going to die, and if he stayed, he would too. So she pleaded with him the only way she could – with her eyes.
save me
save me
run Malfoy
run
don't let me die
run
run
RUN
But he didn't; he just stood there and looked at her as the whole world shook in diabolical, never-ending circles. She pleaded with him wordlessly – or was it me is it me I don't know oh God – but then suddenly he snapped out of the reverie he was in and stepped forward, letting his wand fall to the ground.
Malfoy grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and hugged her close to his body, shielding her from the outside world with his form. Hermione was convulsing, still, and with such force that it knocked them both down on the floor, but he held her, and wouldn't let go.
The pain became too much to bear so she started to scream again.
save me save me it hurts
I need it out
get out get out get OUT OF MY HEAD
he can't die
Hermione was vaguely aware of Malfoy's body around her, holding her close as she writhed in agony, her screams fusing with sounds of destruction coming from around them.
The glass all around them started to break and the sound it made was deafening. Chandeliers all over the Great Hall started to flutter, falling apart into tiny pieces. Candles on the tables, already put out earlier in the night, started to light up one by one again and fall over along with the silverware as the tables shook violently. Fire was slowly spreading, and the silver frost on the walls disintegrated into flames together with the garlands and other decorations. She set it all on fire.
I set it all on fire
it hurts oh it hurts
Oh God oh God I don't want to die I don't want to die
don't let us die don't let him die please please please
don't let us burn
The tremors took over her whole body but he was still there, moving with her, and whispering in her ear as his hold around her tightened and the pandemonium ensued.
"Let it out Granger, I can take it, just let it out."
"Come on Granger, open your eyes, look at me."
"Don't you die Hermione. Don't you dare die."
And she opened her eyes because he called her by her name and everything around was so bright, too bright. Gold met gray and she could see fear clearly in his eyes, and she opened her mouth to tell him it would be alright but instead she screamed again, her voice shrill and thunderous at the same time.
All the ornaments fell off the trees as the trees finally caught fire, producing terrible noises as they crashed on the ground and instigated in orange flames. Tables started turning now and chairs exploded, splinters flying in all directions. Golden plates were reduced to bits and pieces, cutlery burnt beyond recognition. It was mayhem, terrifying and magnificent at once.
The glass chandelier above them burst into million shimmering fragments which started falling down on them, a deadly, inevitable rain. They were going to die, she knew. Last coherent thought she had – her own, not its, just hers, hers – was as simple as it was awful.
We are going to die, and it's my fault.
With the last of her that wasn't consumed by the hell that broke loose, Hermione gathered all her strength and clutched Malfoy as painfully close to her as she could. His eyes were focused on her as they waited for the inevitable, and he was beautiful. He held onto her, like she was his saviour and not the destroyer, and he was still whispering things she couldn't hear as the world around them ceased and darkness overtook them.
AN: So, did you like it? Anything in particular?