Authors Note: Do I have to? Oh alright… I own nothing!!

Razor Blades of Guilt

Hedonism, power in life without end

Morality and remorse banished

An epitaph of useless beliefs and countless mistakes

Left to the outcasts.

Those who were found guilty for self torment

Never admitting so, betrayed by their shiver

While mutilating their happiness

With razor blades of guilt

Razor Blades of Guilt-Sceptic Flesh

The two men threw hexes at each other in rapid succession each one avoiding the other man narrowly. Somewhere at Hogwarts Harry was battling Voldermort with the rest of the death eaters and the other order members. But Hermione's dream eyes were fixated on the blonde man. He had said that he loved her. He couldn't love her she was only 17 , it was wrong. Wasn't it? Anyway, the age wasn't the issue. He was a death eater. Evil. Hermione looked into his grey eyes searching for some sort of indication that a soul resided in those hollow holes. What she saw shocked her to the core. The storm of the imperious curse was clouding his eyes. He was fighting it but he couldn't. He floundered. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw Bellatrix raise her wand above her head.

'Avada Kedavra' the witch screamed the curse loudly, Her psychotic laugh ringing in the bushy haired girls ears. Sirius ducked. But the curse hit Lucius in the chest. His eyes remained open as he floated back and the scream that issued from Hermione's lips carried through to the world of the living.

Hermione Granger sat on the edge of her bed heaving heavily. Another night of dreams. Dreams that showed the moment when Bellatrix Lestrange had killed Lucius Malfoy. She knew that the storm she had seen behind his eyes that day in the department of Mysteries three years ago, were the effects of imperio. Did that mean he wasn't so evil after all? Had he really meant all the things he had done ? Did he truly love her?

These were the thoughts that plagued Hermione night after night as Ron slept on totally oblivious. Everyone had expected them to get together, especially after Harry proposed to Ginny. Molly had pushed them. Continuing to ask when their wedding would be. So after the final death eaters were caught, they had done what was expected of them. But it wasn't right. Kissing Ron was like kissing a brother and Hermione was sure that he felt the same way.

'Morning 'Mione' He stretched widely. Almost immediately he saw her position on the edge of the bed. He sighed. When they had begun he would climb into her bed and keep her company but now? She didn't even go to sleep for long anymore. The dreams had haunted his ex and best friend for months and recently she had begun to talk about how she could have "saved Malfoy". What was there to save? He was evil and he was dead. End of Story.

'Another dream?' he asked softly. She turned to face the red head, dazed.

'huh?'

'I said: Another dream?' Her rosebud lips made a pretty 'o' shape and she nodded. She sighed, her long hair resting on her shoulders. A picture of those mysterious grey eyes formed in her mind, she stared at them through imaginary eyes. Suddenly they began to change. They turned blue, like ice and when the focus moved a rugged black haired man, younger than Sirius but of similar features came into view. She shook her head, confused at the image. Meanwhile, Ron sensing that there would be no more conversation this morning, stood up. He had grown up a lot during the war and if there was one thing he learnt it was when someone needed to be alone, you left them. Kissing her lightly on the cheek, he left. Without a word.

Meanwhile…

Narcissa Malfoy stood elegantly in front of the family portrait she had insisted on. She smiled at the memory of the day she had asked it of him.

--Flashback--

'I want a muggle family portrait.' she had announced one day. Lucius' brow furrowed as he lifted his face from the book.

'May I ask why?' Narcissa smiled at her husband.

'Just because, you wouldn't deny me that would you?' She gave him her best puppy dog eyes and he chuckled deeply.

'Oh yes, because your so poor and I know how devastated you were when you found out the manner only had 120 bedrooms. What primitive dwellings, I'm sure daddy gave you much better.' Narcissa chuckled lightly at her husbands words.

'Of course not, dear, why would you think such a thing of your darling wife?' Lucius rolled his eyes in sarcasm.

'I have no idea. How could I be so heartless?' He face looked thoroughly unamused but she could tell that underneath it all he was laughing.

'Whatever you think is best Cissy, I trust your judgement. Just be careful. The Dark Lord cannot hear of this.' Nodding solemnly she walked away.

--End Of Flashback--

Her long platinum hair, so similar to her husbands, flowed gently down her lace covered back. Her features were noble and aristocratic and she held herself like a true lady. The soft lacy nightgown she wore accentuated her curvy hips and slim body. But what did all that matter now? Even her bright blue eyes that had once held so much life had turned dull and lost their light that had made them shine so much. She was numb. She had not felt the normal kind of love that a wife should feel for her husband for Lucius and she had never lusted after him either. He was like the brother she had never been fortunate enough to have. She looked at the picture, committing his elegant features to memory. She regretted her decision for a muggle picture now as she could not see the mannerisms that she had become so accustomed to. That made her feel safe with him. But she always preferred the muggle way and she would continue to do so even in death. She produced the rope from behind her back like an old muggle magician from the time when movies were grainy and grey. She tied it loosely around the chandelier in a knot her muggle teacher had taught her from when he was in the navy.

'Don't do this Cissy, I'm still alive. Can't you hear my voice? I know I was never the best husband and I put you and Draco in so much danger but you must listen! Please Cissy, don't do this!!' The soft voice that Lucius only used in the privacy of their bedroom filled her head with a force like a siren proclaiming that she was not as alone as she seemed. But it was a pointless sound. A droning that was nothing more than an annoying buzz in the distraught woman's ear.

'My son is dead because of the death and destruction caused by Voldermort and you, you are just a phantom. An echo of what was. I am alone and no-one will be here to stop me.' She screeched to the empty room. Narcissa slipped the loop of rope over her neck, took a deep breath and jumped.

That is how they found her, hanging over the balcony in her silent despair. It was over for her now.

Hermione stared at the paper in shock. That awful skeeter woman, having decided it was 'her duty to report the death of the last Malfoy' had written a report on Narcissa's suicide. She had included a family portrait. Hermione's eyes travelled to Lucius. When he had said he loved her, that night she had gone searching for a way to control the veil, she had told him he was crazy. She'd thought he was trying to gain her trust. To trick her. But when he looked in her direction during the last battle she began to doubt. That small seed of doubt once planted can grow to enormous sizes, and now she felt like it was all her fault. She should have seen the truth in his eyes when he had spoken to her. Her mother had once told her 'even miracles take time'. She should have known. If she had listened maybe he would have joined the order, had the courage to break away from the Imperius that was holding him. Maybe he would have lived. For three years she had tortured herself with these thoughts. Things she could have done differently and now there was another life to add to her supply. Putting down her paper and the empty coffee cup she stood from the chair. Once upon a time she would have been devastated by the obvious disregard in which she treated her cutlery, haphazardly throwing it in the dishwasher. But now she couldn't care less. The numbness which had taken her over for the past three years made it almost impossible to feel anything. Once again she pushed down the guilt. Deep down until the sharp guilt like razor blades was nothing more than a dull ache. She walked to her bedroom her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor of her and Ron's apartment. The room where she spent most of her waking moments was her favourite in the whole apartment. The fresh white walls and bright blue woodwork that looked almost clinical could cheer her in her blackest moods. She pulled out her prim work robes from the blue wooden wardrobe. Hermione's job was something she never thought she would do and now she did she could tell no one about it. Only Harry, the only one who truly understood her, knew where she worked. He had not even told Ginny, who he had been engaged to marry for almost three years now. Hermione was an unspeakable.

When she arrived at the department of mysteries that fine Monday morning, she had no idea this day would change everything. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new minister was there already, waiting. Waiting for her?

'Miss Granger, this way please' She blinked in confusion but followed nonetheless in a silent compliance she always had around Shacklebolt.

'He won't leave, he insists on waiting for you' Kingsley's face was set in a hard line and his voice was almost as brusque and dismissive as his walk.

'Excuse me sir, but who is waiting for me?'

'Him' Kingsley pointed to the left and there he was. He was tall, no more than 16 she conjectured despite his obvious height. His hair was blonde but thick and his eyes were like a deep well of chocolate. Somehow Hermione felt as if she knew him. As if she must protect him. Normally when presented with a specimen such as this, his muscled chest visible through his shirt, Hermione would have felt an immense attraction to this man. But somehow it felt wrong. It felt as if it shouldn't happen. He turned his handsome heart shaped face to her, pure relief evident on his features.

'Mother?'

Mother? Who is this strange man and why does he think Hermione is his mother? Can anyone spot the quote or where its from?