Eclipsed Grief

Draco's body moved without thought, driven only by the raw, aching grief clawing through him. His hand shot out, and his wand soared into his grip with a desperate urgency. Before Bellatrix could even register the motion, he pointed it at her chest, fury blazing in his eyes.

" Avada Kedavra! "

The curse flew from his wand in a flash of green light, striking Bellatrix squarely in the chest. Her triumphant smile faltered, her laughter dying in her throat as the light faded from her eyes. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless and still.

But Draco didn't care. He didn't even spare her a second glance.

His wand slipped from his fingers as he fell to his knees beside Hermione's broken, bloodied form. His hands trembled as he reached out, gathering her into his arms as gently as if she were made of glass. Her head lolled against his chest, her hair matted with blood, her skin pale and cold.

"No, no, no, please , no," Draco whispered, his voice cracking. His fingers brushed over her face, tracing the bruises and cuts, his touch feather-light. "Hermione, please —wake up, love, please —"

But she didn't move. Her eyes were closed, her body limp, her breathing gone. She was gone.

" No —you promised me, Granger, you promised —" His voice broke, a sob tearing from his throat as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. "You said— you said you'd stay alive —you promised me our future—"

Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the blood and dirt smearing her skin. His vision blurred, the world around him fading until all he could see was her—her pale face, her vacant eyes, her lifeless form.

" No —Hermione, please —" He pressed his forehead to hers, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. "You promised me. You promised —"

But there was no response. There was only silence—cold, crushing silence.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice broken and desperate. He cradled her closer, his heart shattering with every word. "I love you so much, so much —please, Hermione, please —don't leave me—"

His sobs echoed through the hall, ragged and raw, a sound of pure, unfiltered anguish. He rocked back and forth, his grip on her tightening as if he could somehow hold her soul in place, keep her tethered to him.

"You're the love of my life, Hermione," he choked out. "The love of my life —you can't be gone, you can't —"

But she was. She was gone, and she had left him alone, hollow and empty and broken .

His gaze dropped to her hand, to the small, delicate ring she always wore on her right hand. A promise ring—a promise for the future they'd planned, the life they'd dreamed of, the happiness that was supposed to be theirs . With trembling fingers, he slid the ring off her right hand and slipped it onto her left, his vision blurred by tears.

He repeated the motion with his own ring, placing it on the same finger. A twisted sort of wedding ceremony—one that sealed the life they were never going to have.

"We were supposed to get married," he whispered, his voice hoarse and thick with grief. "We were supposed to— to grow old together —"

His sobs grew quieter, choked and desperate as he buried his face in her hair. He held her tightly, his hands clutching at her lifeless form as if he could somehow bring her back through sheer willpower alone.

" Please ," he begged, his voice breaking. "Hermione, please —wake up—"

But she didn't. She never would.

A sound pierced through the haze of his grief, a distant, echoing cry. He blinked, his gaze unfocused, his mind numb.

"Draco— Draco !"

It was Ginny. Her voice was shrill, high-pitched and filled with panic. She and Theo were running toward him, their faces pale, their eyes wide with horror.

" No —no, no, no —"

Ginny dropped to her knees beside them, her hands trembling as she reached out for Hermione. But Draco recoiled, clutching Hermione closer, shielding her from them.

" No — don't touch her —" His voice was harsh, wild, a raw, broken snarl. " Don't touch her —"

"Draco," Theo's voice was softer, broken with his own grief, but steady. "Draco, you— we need to— "

" No !" Draco shouted, his eyes blazing. He cradled Hermione tighter, his entire body shaking. " Don't —don't touch her, she's—she's—"

"Draco, please —" Ginny was sobbing, her hands hovering helplessly over Hermione's still form. "She's—she's gone—"

But Draco couldn't hear them. He couldn't think . He could barely breathe .

" No , she's not—she's just—she's just sleeping," he whispered frantically, his voice cracking. "She's—she's going to wake up—"

But she wouldn't. She couldn't .

And he was alone.

"Please—please, Hermione," he sobbed, rocking back and forth, his shoulders shaking. "I'm so sorry—I'm so sorry—"

His gaze fell to her pocket, to the small, crumpled piece of parchment that always sat there—the list of casualties she carried with her, the names of every person she felt responsible for, every life she'd taken on as her burden.

Slowly, his fingers shaking, he pulled the paper out and unfolded it. He stared down at the names, his vision blurred, his heart aching.

"You—" his voice cracked, a low, anguished whisper, "—you don't have to carry this anymore."

He slipped the list into his own pocket, his movements slow and deliberate. It felt like a transfer—a shift of the pain and the weight she'd been carrying for so long. She didn't have to bear it anymore. He would carry it now.

"Draco—" Theo's voice was thick, choked with tears, but steady. "Draco, we—"

"Don't," Draco whispered, his gaze still fixed on Hermione's pale face. "Just— don't ."

And then he broke. His sobs tore through him, raw and broken and desperate, as he pressed his lips to her cold forehead, his tears soaking into her hair.

"I'm so sorry—I'm so sorry— please , Hermione, please—come back to me—"

But she was gone. And she had left him here, alone, without her.

He would never hear her voice again. Never see her smile, never hold her hand, never kiss her lips.

And he hadn't even told her—hadn't even said —

"I love you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I love you— I love you —"

But it was too late. She was gone.

And Draco Malfoy was left alone, clutching the broken body of the only woman he had ever truly loved.