The Sweetest Sin

Chapter 7: The Beauty In The Breakdown

The moment Draco gave the nod of dismissal, Hermione pushed her chair back and stood up. She mumbled a quick "Thank you" and backed out of the room before anyone could say anything.

Once outside, Hermione let out a breath of relief. The atmosphere in the dining room during breakfast had been unbearably tense: Pansy kept shooting smirks at her and the kids were silent after the morning ordeal. Draco ignored the rest of his family like usual, his excuse this time being important documents for work.

Hermione heard footsteps approaching, so she quickly ducked behind the staircase and hurried down the length of the hallway to her quarters. The footsteps most likely belonged to Bingley, and he wasn't exactly her favourite character. Although, she thought to herself, it's not like I have anyone to judge him against. I don't think there's anyone here besides the family and him.

As she made her way down the narrow stairs, Hermione stopped. Following her last thought, a wave of loneliness had washed over her. Up until this point, it hadn't hit her that she was alone in the Malfoy mansion. Back on the streets, she'd had Jeanne and other friends she could talk to daily. Over here, however, it was just her, Pansy, and the kids and as much as she loved Kathryn, Draco's wife and children weren't exactly the best company she could ask for.

Now that Hermione's mind was on her lack of friendly contact, all worries about Kathryn and Tommy left her. She was overcome by the need to talk to a friend and she clenched the wooden stair rail behind her in an attempt to ease the unbearable ache. Unsurprisingly, her action didn't work; instead, Hermione gasped when a long splinter of wood cut deeply into the palm of her hand, causing tears of pain to spring to her eyes.

As Hermione gently eased the splinter out with a trembling hand, she tried to focus on a memory, any memory, from Hogwarts. It was something she'd gotten accustomed to doing over the years whenever the current situation seemed hopeless. "Think positive things," she whispered to herself through teeth gritted in pain. However, the thought of Hogwarts reminded her immediately of her old friends, Harry and Ron, and the loneliness hit her again.

Hermione brought her lips to the wound in her palm and tried to suck away the surfacing blood as she stumbled down the remainder of the stairs and collapsed on her bed. She pulled away and looked down at the cut, dismayed to find that her palm was quickly being stained crimson. Apparently, the splinter had been driven in deeper than she originally thought.

Groaning, Hermione let her hand rest palm-up on the dusty drawer by the head of her bed. Her only option was to wait for the bleeding to stop. As she watched the streaks of red trickling down her palm, Harry and Ron's faces suddenly burst so clearly into her mind it was as if she had just seen the two of them yesterday.

Hermione's froze and for a moment, her throat felt as though it had closed over. Then, she regained her breath, but not before the painful numbness of long-experienced pain had settled over her. Her heart broke as she recalled the night she had last contacted her two friends.

It was the first day of September and last day of the war. The jets of red and green light had thinned out - most of the people who once voiced the incantations to create the spells lay dead on the battlefield - and it looked like the war was finally going to end with the Ministry of Magic as the favoured side. Hermione speaking to Harry and Ron by means of a magical communication mirror and asking them how the situation looked where they were, and Harry had just replied that it was clear. Just as she was beginning to sit back in relief, she heard Ron shout something about how a group of Death Eaters had just arrived at their door. Before Hermione could even ask what was going on, Harry had thrown the mirror down on the ground to go help Ron. The sound of shattering glass came from their side and the surface of the mirror went black. It was the last time Hermione ever saw or heard from either of her friends.

Of course, Harry had died that very night. It was written in the stars that he could not exist while Voldemort lived and vice versa. What had happened to Ron was unknown to Hermione, but her best guess was that he had died fighting alongside Harry. Together until the end, Hermione thought as guilt took over her. I should have been there to help them. I should have died that night with them.

The mere thought of being with Harry and Ron made Hermione bury her face in her pillow to muffle the sound of the sobs that had arisen. If they could see me now, they would tell me to be strong. But what's the point when there's nothing to be strong for?

Slowly, Hermione forced herself to stop crying - It's pointless, just like life, she thought dully - and lift her head off the pillow. She shakily inhaled a deep breath and wiped away the wetness on her cheeks with the hand that had just been resting on the bedside drawer a few minutes ago. She was so distracted by her thoughts that the pain of the salt in her tears rubbing into her cut was barely noticeable.

"If I died that night," she said out loud to the emptiness of her room, "I would've saved myself."

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Later that day, Hermione sat in the backyard garden of the mansion, letting the afternoon sunshine relax her. While the Malfoys had been out, she'd gone wandering around the house. Although she had been tempted to go see what Draco so wanted to keep her from seeing on the third floor, she knew she shouldn't, so instead, she walked the opposite way and discovered that behind the doors with the serpent-shaped handles lay a beautiful, blooming garden.

For the first time that day, Hermione allowed a genuine smile to spread across her face. It wasn't just the fact that she was finally alone, but that she never would have expected such a formidable house to hold such beauty behind it. This spread of land was breathtaking. Hermione couldn't even remember seeing anything as natural and pure as the wild foliage that grew here. A carpet of lush, green grass covered the ground and willow trees grew along the shore of a small pond in the center of the garden, their graceful branches gently grazing the clear surface of the water. Wild flowers of every colour arose from between the blades of grass, spreading their petals to the clear, blue sky. A narrow dirt trail with pebbles placed along both sides of it wound its way through the garden, making the garden look as if it were a picture in a book brought to life.

Now, Hermione stood up and began to resume her exploring of the garden. It was like a miniature forest; a surprise seemed to hide around every tree. Earlier, she had discovered a small rabbit and its two children behind a boulder. She'd smiled when she saw the creatures; they looked so innocent that it was hard not to.

As Hermione made her way back onto the dirt trail, a butterfly flitted across her path. She stopped to watch it flutter on by to a wild blackberry bush. There, it landed. Captivated by the beautiful pattern of red and yellow circles on the butterfly's wings, Hermione crept silently over to the bush and tentatively reached a hand out to the insect. Immediately, it flew away.

Shrugging, Hermione pulled back and continued on her way. As she strolled down the path, another thing caught her eye - a beautiful flower. Its petals were the size of Hermione's fist, and each was a brilliant purple colour. Unable to restrain herself, Hermione plucked the flower from the ground. After a second's worth of hesitation, she tucked the flower gingerly behind her ear. Now, with the beautiful robe Draco had given her and the flower in her hair, Hermione felt like a real princess.

A sense of happiness settled in her heart. Being outside among the nature had an indescribable effect on her. It was as if every miserable memory stored in her mind had been erased, leaving nothing but pure joy. Sighing happily, Hermione spread her arms out and twirled around. "If only everything in this world could be so lovely," she murmured to herself.

Hermione spent the remainder of the afternoon in the garden just marveling at the beauty of it. At last, as the sun began to set and the shadows grew longer, she decided she should go back inside - Kathryn and Tommy might need attending to after their day out. Reluctantly, she got up from her seat under a willow tree and brushed the leaves off her bottom.

"I'll be back tomorrow," she whispered to no one in particular before returning to the mansion.