Hello dear readers!
I won't lie, this chapter was a difficult one to write. I had to rewrite it many times, so I really hope I landed on the right formula.
THANK YOU for being here and for continuing to read my story. I hope this chapter won't dissapoint!
I really hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 7 – Burdened, Shackled
The morning sun painted the snow-covered landscape in a soft golden hue as Hermione prepared breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of sizzling bacon and scrambled eggs filled the cottage.
For the first time in a long time, she was making breakfast for someone other than just herself.
Malfoy was still sleeping in his room upstairs.
Malfoy…was here…in the cottage.
And the fact that she was happy about it gnawed at her.
She found herself absentmindedly playing with her new necklace with her free hand as she flipped the bacon in the pan. It was a beautiful piece of magical jewelry that left her feeling peaceful, its protective charms engulfing around her like a comforting blanket. To say that she was taken aback when he had presented it to her last night would be an understatement. It was an incredibly thoughtful gesture, not because it was an exorbitant gift, but because of its significance: it was a Black family heirloom…and she was a muggleborn witch.
Yet Malfoy was all too insistent that she keep it, his worry for her safety evident.
He cared for her safety.
First the macarons, the photograph of her parents in Australia, the potions book, and now the necklace?
Was he doing this to atone? To make amends? Surely it had to be that. There is no other logical explanation.
But he hadn't just contented with expressing his regret through gestures and offerings…he had apologized to her, more than once.
The image of him holding her pained face in his large hands as she cried profusely flashed before her eyes. He had been remorseful about the way he had treated her in school, about the slurs, about their current predicament…about everything. He had said sorry so many times, as many as it took for her to stop crying from the sheer shock of hearing it.
If someone had told her a year ago, no, four months ago, that Draco sodding Malfoy would ask for her forgiveness, she would have laughed in their face and thought them barmy.
Draco sodding Malfoy!
Yet you called him Draco yesterday…and he called you Hermione.
And he did, apologize that is.
He was also still here, keeping her company during the holidays.
'I'm sorry. I know you've probably been going barmy with solitude…I should have come see you sooner.'
Those were the exact words he had told her yesterday.
Before she could ponder on her thoughts further, Malfoy emerged into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Good morning," Hermione greeted, a warm smile playing on her lips as she plated the now fully cooked food. "Sleep well?"
Draco nodded, a faint smile forming on his lips. "Surprisingly, yes. I haven't slept this well in ages."
Hermione felt warmth seep into her stomach at his statement yet didn't know why. "Good. Breakfast is ready."
They shared a pleasant meal with barely any awkwardness between them. Draco couldn't help but appreciate the strangely domestic scene—the crackling fire, the aroma of food, and Hermione's warm hospitality. He had never thought that one day, the one and only Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her year, and the girl he tormented since age eleven, would ever be delighting in sharing a breakfast that she prepared herself with someone like him. He didn't deserve this. He knew he didn't. But he couldn't help but want to relish in this moment.
"This is nice," Draco admitted, taking a sip of his coffee. "Almost feels... normal."
Hermione smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "It's been a while since normal was a part of our lives, hasn't it?"
Our lives.
He almost shuddered at her phrasing. He had dragged her into this, linked his survival to hers.
Guilty. Selfish.
Undeserving.
Draco tightened his hold on his fork for a second before allowing himself to occlude.
You need to maintain composure, Draco.
His mother's voice rang in his ears as he closed his eyes, forcing his mind to quickly rebuild its walls, neatly filing his feelings into their proper compartments with expert ease. Once properly occluded, he opened his eyes, thankful to have found her busy adding more milk to her tea.
Good. She hadn't noticed.
After finishing their breakfast, he decided he could no longer delay the conversation they allowed themselves to forego yesterday. She had asked him to come here for a reason. "We can't keep avoiding the inevitable, Granger."
She looked at him, confusion quickly molding into dread and then resignation on her features. "I know. We need to talk about what I found in the book."
Draco nodded solemnly. "So, tell me. What did you discover?"
As they cleared the table, Hermione led Draco back to the study. She opened the dreaded book, "Anima Maledicta and Sacra," and began explaining her findings.
"Granger," Draco interrupted, his voice tight, "are you telling me that Voldemort might have made himself immortal using... horcruxes?"
She nodded gravely. "Yes, that's what the book implies. The act of splitting one's soul and hiding it in objects, making it impossible to die as long as the horcruxes exist. I believe it's the reason he keeps returning."
Draco's face went pale, and he sank into a chair, absorbing the revelation. "But...how many of these has he made? Could he have made more than one?"
Hermione hesitated. "Who knows…but it mentioned that creating a horcrux requires committing murder."
A heavy silence hung in the air. Draco's eyes, a mix of disgust and anger, met Hermione's. "Murder?"
She nodded. "The act of killing is an integral part of the ritual. It's a perversion of magic, Malfoy."
Draco's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his mind processing the horrifying information. "Is there a way to destroy these blasted things?"
Hermione shook her head, her expression troubled. "I don't know. The book didn't provide any information on that. It seems to be a well-guarded secret."
Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This complicates things further. If we can't destroy them, how are we supposed to defeat him?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed as she stared at the ominous book on the desk before her. "I will find a way. I will keep looking. We can't let him win."
He looked away, refusing to meet her eyes as he paced back and forth.
Occlude, Draco.
Nails dug into his palms as he tried to focus.
This won't do, Drakey-poo. Wouldn't want the Dark Lord to torture my darling baby nephew for having such a weak will.
He felt himself shaking.
Occluding will be your closest ally, Draco.
"FUCK!"
He hadn't realized he had said that out loud until he felt her flinching away from him. She was about to place her hand on his forearm.
She was trying to comfort me.
"I'm sorry Granger, I—"
"Something is wrong Malfoy. This can't just be about the horcruxes." He heard her say as he finally turned around to face her. She was looking at him suspiciously.
"It's nothing. Just the weight of the situation, Granger."
Occlude, Draco.
Hermione, however, wasn't convinced. She stepped closer, a determined glint in her eyes. "Don't lie to me, Malfoy. I've seen you be more collected than this when you killed Lestrange."
"Now that's not true—"
"You were hyperventilating just now, Malfoy, and your hands are bleeding."
Draco's breath caught in his throat, his eyes meeting hers and then dropping to look at his palms. They were indeed bloodied. He hadn't realized.
He hadn't realized.
He had lost control.
This simply won't do.
Panic was threatening to overtake him once more.
"Malfoy please!"
Grey eyes turned back to meet amber.
"Please…just tell me the truth."
He knew he shouldn't hide it anymore. Not from her. But how could he tell her something so horrendous, so…
Monstrous.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his lashes fluttering close as he took a deep breath. He had given up on occluding. He found he simply couldn't do it. Not with her.
Only with her.
"The Dark Lord... he's given me another task; an impossible one, yet I cannot refuse it."
Hermione's brows furrowed. "What task?"
Draco's voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm supposed to..."
"Supposed to do what?!" She yelled.
"Kill Dumbledore."
The whole world seemed to turn on its axis as soon as those two words left his lips.
"Come again?"
"You heard me."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth, feeling her lips tremble against her palm. Her breath lodged in her throat as she stared at him, her heart almost beating out of her chest.
He was tasked with killing… killing Albus Dumbledore, their headmaster, their professor, their protector…
The strongest wizard alive?
"What? But that's... that's impossible!"
Draco winced; his gaze pained. "He doesn't fully trust me, ever since I supposedly failed to save Lestrange. He thinks this will be the ultimate test of my and my family's loyalty. A suicide mission that I cannot refuse."
Hermione's shock turned to anger. "And you agreed to this? Malfoy, you can't—"
He interrupted; his voice rising with anger and desperation. "I had no choice, Granger! If I refuse, he'll know I'm not fully on his side. He's watching me closely, and I can't risk exposing us."
Her eyes blazed with fury. "So, you're just going to go along with this?! Let yourself be a puppet in his hands…kill for him?!"
She was shaking with rage. She didn't know what to think. Could he even do it? Surely not…it's Dumbledore. He's too powerful.
Draco's gaze was firmly on the floor, his hands clenched into tight fists. He couldn't meet her eyes, not when she was accusing him of easily accepting to kill for…for him .
I will do it. I will be his humble servant, Aunt Bella. Please. Anything but mother.
He snapped.
"What do you suggest huh? HUH?! What do you suggest I do, witch?" He was slowly approaching her now, his tall frame menacing as he towered over her. "If I refuse, he kills her right then and there, no, actually he would make me watch as he slowly tortures her and then kills her."
"Her?"
"MY MOTHER!"
She stilled at this while he was panting furiously, his eyes so wild with wrath that her eyes instantly drifted away from his piercing gaze.
Almost an eternity passed before she broke the torturous silence.
"I didn't…I didn't realize."
He suddenly continued as if she had never interrupted him. "And if I do it, I would need to succeed, no matter how difficult it would be, because if I fail…you get it now, Granger?" Draco's eyes flashed at her with unsuppressed anger as he got even closer, enough that she could feel his hot breath against the top of her head.
Hermione recoiled at the intensity of Malfoy's words, the weight of the impossible choices he faced crashing down on her. The brutality of the ultimatum he described seemed insurmountable.
She couldn't bear to look at him, guilt eating at her.
"Malfoy," she said, her voice breaking through the charged air in a whisper, "there has to be another way. You can't let him force you into becoming a murderer—"
"There is no way out! I'm shackled to this fate. He holds the chains, and I have no choice but to follow."
Hermione's mind raced as she took a step backwards, her lower back slamming against the desk.
This was too much…this was too much…
Her hands gripped the desk behind her as she steadied herself, her nails grating against the oak surface.
I can't let this happen.
"We need a plan. A way to free you from this, to defy him without putting you and your family in danger."
Draco scoffed bitterly. "Do you think I haven't considered that? You think I haven't agonized over it since the day he told me, since the first day of Christmas break? There's no way to defy him without consequences. He's always one step ahead."
Her lashes fluttered close as she shuddered at the thought of Voldemort enacting judgment upon those who fail him.
Why can't I look at him still?
Maybe because he's a sixteen-year-old forced to become a murderer, or at least attempt to.
He already killed Lestrange…but that was an accident—
No.
But it was an act in self defense…right?
More in her defense.
Merlin…
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her erratic thoughts.
But…Professor Dumbledore can fix this. He always fixes things in the end.
Yes! That's it!
"You can tell Dumbledore! You can go to him after the break and explain everything…he can help you!" Hermione offered desperately; her eyes finally meeting his.
She wished she hadn't, finding his eyes a stoney grey.
Terrifying.
The blond laughed grimly "That's a good one Granger. Yea, I'll just go into his office and tell him that I was tasked with killing him…what's he going to do huh? Go confront the Dark Lord himself? I know you Gryffindor lot think he is invincible, but I think you now know who is the truly invincible one in the equation."
Hermione's face fell as she took it all in. He was right, Voldemort cannot be defeated as long as he has horcruxes, and they had no clue where they were or how to destroy them. And even if Dumbledore knew about Voldemort's secret or even if they told him themselves, the time it would take to even begin to scratch the surface of these questions…
"How much time…how much time do you have to complete your mission, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, her voice shivering with dread.
Draco's looked away, some of his platinum hair covering the defeated look in his eyes "Until June...the end of the school year"
The Gryffindor took a deep breath, gathering some courage before saying "We can't give up. We have some time. I still think you should tell Professor Dumbledore. Surely there is something he can do—"
"Forget it, Granger."
She was frustrated now.
"Why not?!"
He took a step towards her, his eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Malfoy, stay ba—"
"Because I would rather drink poison before I ever ask Albus fucking Dumbledore for help."
His face was inches from hers, his palms pressing against the desk, trapping her between it and him, causing her to flinch. Hermione's heart raced as Malfoy's fury the space between them. The frightening look in his eyes was almost palpable, and she felt both the heat of his breath as well as the intensity of his magic wrap around her, sending a chilling shiver down her spine as she gulped. His magic was so strong, so overwhelming, she thought it could smother her at any moment.
"Malfoy…please…you're scaring me…"
Draco's expression wavered, the seething rage in his eyes softening to reveal a flicker of remorse. "I—I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice dropping to a strained whisper. He stepped back abruptly, as though the desk had burned his hands, creating a gap between them that allowed Hermione to breathe again.
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the impossible situation settling around them like a leaden shroud. Draco finally spoke, his voice filled with sorrow. "I'm stuck in a nightmare, Granger. There's no waking up from it."
Hermione's eyes softened as she looked at him. She saw a boy who was battling with his conscience. A boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
A boy robbed of any real choice.
She couldn't fully grasp why he was so adamant about not seeking Dumbledore's help, but she could sense that there must be a compelling reason. After all, why else would he choose to bear such a heavy burden alone?
She moved closer, her hand hesitantly reaching out to grasp his forearm before she pulled it back, unsure of how he would react. "You're not alone in this," she said, her voice steady despite everything. "There's always a way. We'll figure it out. You don't have to do this all by yourself."
Draco looked at her, a storm of conflicting emotions in his eyes. "You don't understand. The Dark Lord may be practically immortal as we've concluded but…his fear…it's the most dangerous thing our kind has ever faced."
"His fear?"
He nodded.
Hermione took a deep breath, her resolve solidifying as she reached out again, her fingers making contact with his forearm. "Then help me understand. I can't help you if I don't have all the facts."
Draco hesitated, his internal turmoil manifesting in the furrowed lines on his forehead. No one outside his parents, the Dark Lord, and Snape knew.
If she knew…would she run? Would she be terrified of him?
She's already scared of you.
Yet he felt her gently squeeze his forearm, her honeyed eyes pleading with his as she gave him a small reassuring smile.
How was she still standing here?
"Granger…"
"Please Malfoy, I…I want to help."
Her smile did not falter, and he hated himself for it.
I don't deserve her kindness.
"You can tell me…"
He sighed.
Here goes nothing.
"I haven't been entirely truthful to you about my standing as a Death Eater."
He felt her grip him tighter, so he avoided her gaze as he continued.
"The Dark Lord is not just dissatisfied with the extent of my loyalty because of Lestrange's demise, nor just because of my father's failings. He—he fears my magic. If I falter in my attempt to end Dumbledore, it wouldn't be because I am physically incapable of doing it."
Hermione was confused. He wasn't making any sense.
"What do you mean?"
He let out another breath before he spoke again.
"The only way I would not succeed in my mission is if I simply weren't able to bring myself to do it."
She swallowed. "Has Voldemort concocted such a fool-proof plan?"
"Well yes, but…not exactly."
She was starting to feel exasperated.
"If I choose not to succeed, the Dark Lord will have no choice but to consider it as an act of betrayal. Yet should I choose to succeed, he will view me as both a sure key to victory as well as potential threat. He…"
"He what, Malfoy?"
Inhale.
Exhale.
"He dreads the notion that I might surpass him in power. The reason he's allowed me to persist in his service is that he envisages wielding me as a formidable weapon."
There it was. There was no going back now.
He watched her mouth go slack.
Hermione's mind sprinted in a million directions, attempting to process his statement. Flashbacks of his confrontation with Rodolphus Lestrange rushed through her mind.
She had never seen anyone, besides maybe Dumbledore himself, maneuver magic in such a precise, sharp, fluid and powerful way. It had been an outstanding sight to behold, even more so considering that the wizard who managed it was the same broken adolescent standing in front of her now.
Yet she had never heard of Dumbledore ever rebounding the killing curse, or any other wizard or witch for that fact.
"Wait, how did you–
Draco interrupted, knowing all too well what she was thinking of, her emotions so loud they were reverberating inside his skull.
He was convinced Legilimency was not so much a blessing, but more so a curse.
"There exists another prophecy, crafted shortly after Sybill Trelawney's own about Potter became known to the Dark Lord in March of 1980. This prophecy originated from an ancient seer in Bulgaria named Penka Alferov, whom the Dark Lord is rumored to have consulted frequently. It foretells, 'He who will be born sixteen days before the summer solstice at the dawn of this decade, the progeny of houses ancient and pure, imbued with power so formidable that it shall tilt the balance in favor of the one who wields him, with the fate of wizardkind hanging in the balance of his wand.'"
The room held its breath, an overwhelming tension wrapping around Draco and Hermione like a tornado.
He had done it. He had told her.
Hermione's eyes were wide with astonishment and fear, the room swaying as the weight of the prophecy settled in her mind. Her hand left his arm to grip the desk again to study herself. "But that's... that's about you, Malfoy."
He nodded solemnly. "Yes, it's about me."
She shook her head, her fingers grating against oak.
'…the fate of wizardkind hanging in the balance of his wand.'
It can't be.
It could.
She knew it, she had seen it.
The wizard before her was probably, no, definitely…the most formidable magical force of the modern age.
From what she's seen, he has mastered both wandless and wordless magic…
He could apparate across continents…
He could deflect the killing curse…
All without breaking a sweat…
Her whole body shivered as she dared to imagine what else he would be capable of, the potential for both incredible good and devastating destruction.
Yet even with all his power, he will still…powerless.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the world before her as a hand instinctively covered her quivering mouth, stifling the sobs that threatened to escape. The weight of the situation pressed down against her chest so hard she almost choked.
How could one individual, a mere teenager, endure such overwhelming pressure?
The realization struck like a bolt — the parallel struggles of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, two young men shouldering burdens that seem unbeatable, yet with vastly different circumstances.
Harry faced the colossal task of saving the entire wizarding world by defeating Voldemort, but he has a network of support. He is surrounded by friends, loved ones, and the guidance of Albus Dumbledore.
In stark contrast, Draco, despite being the most magically powerful wizard alive, was utterly and completely shackled. He was forced into the role of a Death Eater, a soldier in Voldemort's army before even reaching adulthood. His own home had transformed into a hellish prison, presided over by a monstrous warden who held not only his fate but also that of his mother in cruel hands.
To his father, Draco Malfoy was a key to redemption.
To his mother, he was a lifeline.
To Voldemort, he was a weapon.
To the wizarding world, if they found out, he would be a freak of nature, an anomaly, a wizard unmatched in his power.
A god.
Even to his friends, he was an incomplete story.
To none was he ever just a terrified adolescent, one with far too much to bear.
And so, she cried. She cried for his lost childhood, for his troubled youth, for his tortured soul.
Draco looked at her with a pained expression, wanting to wipe her tears away, to reassure her, to take her in his arms and whisper in her ears that this was just a nightmare. How he wished he could do that.
But his feet remained firm on the wooden floor of the study, as he found himself unable to move, unable to comfort the weeping witch.
Suddenly, Hermione did the only thing she could do in a situation like this, like she had done with Harry so many times.
She rushed towards him and threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his chest, her hands clutching at his shirt.
Draco stood there, frozen for a moment, feeling the warmth of Hermione's tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt. He hesitated, but gradually, his arms found their way around her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. His fingers gently brushed her hair, attempting to provide her with some solace.
Hermione's sobs echoed in the small study as they stood there, aching, trying to find a semblance of comfort in their embrace. They were just two young souls, burdened by circumstances beyond their control, seeking solace in the only other person who understood the depths of their pain.
Draco closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and for a fleeting moment, he wished he could erase the anguish etched across Hermione's face. He felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest, a yearning for something more than the solitary existence he had resigned himself to. He softly caressed her hair, wondering if he would ever be able to give her back her freedom. If he would ever be allowed to dream of something better for himself than this wretched life.
As Hermione's tears subsided, she pulled away from the embrace, her eyes looking at the tired wizard. At that moment, he looked like he was twice his age.
"You can't let this prophecy define you, Draco," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible. "You—We can't let this monster control you. We need to find a way." she added, in more of an attempt to convince herself than him. "You are strong, the strongest wizard alive, surely we can use that for something?"
She hadn't realized that she had used his first name, again.
A bitter smile played on Draco's lips. "Or I could become the very instrument he uses to conquer all. The prophecy is a double-edged sword, Granger. It can tip the scales in favor of either side."
A heavy silence hung in the air as she contemplated his words. He was right. If they didn't eliminate the obstacles standing in the way of Draco's freedom, mainly his Dark Mark and the use of his mother as a threat, he would be able to use him as he wishes.
Hermione took a deep breath, gathering her Gryffindor courage and determination.
"We can't let him manipulate you any longer, Malfoy. We have to find a way to break free from the chains that bind you to him, to have you dictate this prophecy on your own terms."
Draco's gaze met hers, despair flickering in his stormy eyes. "And how do you propose we do that, Granger?"
"I will help you. I will find a way," Hermione asserted, her voice unwavering. "And you will help me find it."
Draco's skepticism clashed with the spark of hope in his eyes. "You're asking for the impossible."
Hermione smiled, a fire igniting in her gaze. "I am Hermione Granger, supposedly the brightest witch of her age. If I can't find the way out, who can?"
He couldn't help but smile at that.
"The world needs you, Malfoy. Not as Voldemort's weapon, but as the wizard who works to end him."
Draco's jaw tensed, his stormy eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I don't see how, Granger. The prophecy, the Dark Lord's demands—they're my shackles."
Hermione gripped his arms, a fierce determination burning in her eyes. "You're not alone in this. We can do this together. You have a strength, a magic that even "he who must not be named" fears. We can turn that fear against him. And, I will be relentless in my research."
He looked at her, his eyes holding the smallest tinge of hope.
"Not only are you strong, but you have something he never had," Hermione insisted, her voice unwavering. "You have people who care about you…you have—"
He held her gaze as she paused, as if braving herself before she spoke again.
"You have me."
The room seemed to pulse at the same rhythm as his own heart.
You have people who care about you.
You have me.
Draco's gaze locked onto Hermione's; shock etched across his features. The weight of her words lingered in the air, challenging the very foundations of his previously resigned acceptance of his fate.
She was giving him a choice.
His eyes softened at her, reaching to twist a lock of her curly hair around his finger. "You're asking for miracles, Granger."
Her expression turned resolute. "Maybe, but I've seen you perform magic that feels like a one."
As if compelled by an unseen force, Hermione reached up and gently cupped Draco's face with her hands. Her touch was both comforting and electrifying, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.
"Draco," she whispered, her eyes searching his, "let me be your light in this web of darkness."
His breath caught in his throat as he felt the warmth of her touch, and a surge of emotions welled up within him.
She was asking to share his burden, and he found that he wanted to let her.
Because he trusted her, and she trusted him.
Unable to control his desires any longer, Draco leaned in, closing the distance between them.
He kissed her.
Draco's secret is finally revealed!
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Until next time!
Cleo26
