“Draco.” Hermione looked up to him with tears falling from her eyes. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” She grabbed her arms and hugged herself. Draco could feel the air leave his chest as he watched her crying. He would do anything to make sure she never had another tear fall on that beautiful face. He wrapped his arms around her. She just stood there, still hugging herself and staring at nothing.
“No. Don’t. Don’t you dare try to comfort me, you hated him.” Hermione rips herself away from him and drops to the ground on the nearest wall. She could run, but she doesn’t. She knows there’s no where left to go. So she stays on the floor, holding her head.
“He was all I had left…” She said after a long moment.
“He was going to take you from me.” Draco said coldly. “I haven’t done what I did just to loose you to The Weasel.” Draco’s expression is cold and emotionless. He doesn’t move towards Hermione on the floor, but to the fire in the middle of the room. He stops in front of the fire, looking at the flames burning away the wood. Hermione looked up at him, still holding her head, and furrowed her brows in confusion.
“What do you mean—Draco—what did you do?” Hermione had a scared, wild expression. Draco sighs and continues to stare at the flickering flames, not wanting to see the pain he caused written all over her face.
He told her Ron Weasley was found dead this morning, but spared the details for her own sake. Draco was sure she didn’t want to hear how he found The Weasel and made him beg for forgiveness right before he disemboweled him. Quite the show, Draco thought. He didn’t even ask why Draco was there. Seems like word got around that Draco Malfoy was on the hunt for the remaining order members. Ronald Weasley was the last one left. Draco has completed his last mission.
“I’ve told you before Hermione, no one is going to live with the regret of leaving you behind.” Draco said coolly still looking at the fire. “If that means they don’t get to live at all, so be it.”
“So you kill them…? My friends…? Harry?” Hermione howled, tears falling more heavily now. “They didn’t want to leave me Draco, I was- I was-“
“You were starving to death in an enchanted trunk. If I hadn’t shown up you would have died.” He said, cutting her off. Draco was looking at her now with a possessively dark expression on his godlike face. The only emotion he had let her see since she got here. He could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes, but he didn’t look away this time.
“I saved you. You’re mine now.” He said fiercely, still staring into her beautiful brown eyes.
Hermione paled, but stayed silent. She realized what this meant and could feel her world falling down all around her. The only person keeping her safe and sane was the reason why she was so lonely and crazy in the first place. Oh what the oxymoron I am, thought Hermione, how could Draco be so kind to me, but so evil to everyone else. Draco watched as she realized what he did and listened—no matter how hard it was—as she cried for her friends.
Not knowing what to say, Draco finally looked away from Hermione and walked over to the window. They were in the library at Malfoy Manor. The only place left that Voldemort doesn’t have monitored. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Godric’s Hollow, and Hogwarts are all under Voldemorts control.
Hermione Granger, The Brightest Witch of her Age, is just a shell of the girl she once was. She refuses to use magic. Draco usually finds her curled up with Hogwarts: A History, not reading, but staring at the cover with a blank expression. He bought all her favorite books, remembering what she liked in school, that weren’t already in the massive Malfoy library. Even if she didn’t read. He was never mean to her and always treated her with gentle care. Never touched her when she didn’t want him too. Always made sure she had access to the kitchen and library. She was grateful, he could tell, but she wasn’t happy. He never saw her laugh and only saw her smile when she was dreaming—if she dreamt. Most nights were spent holding and rocking her back to sleep after a nightmare. Hermione Granger was broken.
Two years ago, Draco Malfoy found her on a raid in Godric’s Hollow right after Christmas, hiding in a enchanted trunk. Voldemort received information regarding Harry—he was last seen at the graveyard—in Godric’s Hollow. But when he looked down into that trunk, and Hermione looked up at him with scared eyes, he felt his heart crack for the first time in his life. He knew from that moment on he would never let another soul lay a hand on her beautiful brown skin. Draco picked her frail body up, and gently pushed back the chestnut curls falling in her face. She looked beautiful still, and he couldn’t understand how someone so beautiful and kind could be left there to die by the people who were supposed to love her the most. He Disillusioned her and brought her back to the manor. He didn’t know why, but if anything else happened to her, he would never recover.
Now Draco Malfoy is the highest ranking death eater in Voldemorts army and has killed many men, women and children. Hermione is his reason. After finding her and nursing her back to health, he went out to find the Order Members who left her there to die. Draco Malfoy is ruthless. Right before he kills them, he asks why they decided to leave such a talented witch to die.
Their answers are never good enough to keep them alive. Ron begged Draco to spare him and said Hermione would hate Draco for what he has done to her friends. Draco asked him why he left her there in that trunk. Ron said he didn’t leave her there, that he was looking for her. Draco killed him anyway.
Draco knows Hermione will never forgive him for killing her friends, but at least she’s safe. No one will ever touch his lioness again and he would do it all again if he had to.
But, he wishes things were different, that he didn’t find her almost dead. That they had met in another life where blood status and evil doesn’t exist. Where he could have told her how he felt the moment he saw her on that train. Somewhere safe.
That’s where she could learn to love him.
He’d set the world a blaze, but never let a flame touch her.