Unforgiveable Sinner

Chapter Three: Unamused

Hermione awoke to the sun streaming into her eyes. The curtains surrounding the large window which adorned her bedroom had been thrown open and she rolled over, squeezing her eyes closed and hoping to gain a few more minutes of sleep. But there was no such luck of course, as Hermione realized that a person had opened the curtains and he soon came wandering back into the room.

"Harry, what are you doing up so early?" she asked, after glancing over the clock on her bedside. It was only a little past six. He smiled at her and pulled on a black cloak over his muggle clothing of old denim jeans and a dark green jumper, before placing his cup of coffee on her bedside table and kissing her forehead. The fringe of his scruffy black hair was so long that it balanced itself on the rims of his glasses and Hermione made a mental note to have him get it trimmed to next time he was free -- whenever that would be.

"I've received an owl from Dumbledore, he's called a meeting with the Order. You and Ron don't have to attend, but he wants me there to make sure I'm informed on everything."

Hermione nodded slowly. Even though she and Ron had their own jobs, they were part of the Order per-say. Her own training as an Auror was in part to prepare herself for anything she might face, though she liked working for the Ministry as someone had to pay the bills and Harry's small fortune would not last forever. Ron, however, just seemed to want to know the details of whatever happened. That boy had never taken kindly to being kept in the dark and as soon as he had become of age, he had insisted on joining the Order.

"You're not upset are you?" asked Harry, concern in his eyes. "I know it's been awhile since we've spent time together, but things have been rather busy lately."

"It's fine, really it is. There's a lot going on for both of us at the moment," she insisted.

"True, and Voldemort does seem to be a bit more active lately. Something's coming Hermione, I can feel it..."

Harry trailed off; as if caught up in his own thoughts and she couldn't help but sigh. This was Harry all right, forever the gallant hero, dedicated to his work. The lost look in his eyes only caused Hermione's attitude to plummet slightly, for she couldn't help but worry about him. He had been spending day after day shut up in Grimmauld Place and she wondered for a moment, whether he was still mourning over the loss of Sirius.

Harry had never truly gotten over the death of his godfather, though to the public eye he had seemed to recover fairly well. Only those close to him knew how much he still hurt whenever Sirius was so much as mentioned and in Hermione's opinion, the loss of Sirius had been a more hurtful experience than the loss of his parents. He had never known his parents and had never so much as spoken to them. Sirius had been the only real family Harry had ever had -- even if they weren't related by blood.

"How long do you have before the meeting?" she asked, bringing Harry's senses back down to earth.

"It's at seven, I thought I may as well get a head start on some other research I had been working on," he muttered absentmindedly. Hermione mused on how the times had changed, but only for a moment before Harry leant in and tenderly kissed her, smiling feverishly after he did so. He was still that naïve boy from Hogwarts; that much was certain. "We have some time to talk though, so tell me. How goes interviewing ferret boy?"

"He makes it a bit difficult at times. He's very stubborn."

"Same old Malfoy I see," muttered Harry, shrugging. "Has he spilt anything as of yet?"

She shook her head mournfully; knowing what Harry was getting at. The dark glint in his eye spoke volumes more than his expressionless tone.

"He's not admitting to anything."

An eerie silence crept into the room, causing both occupants to just sit and stand, staring off into oblivion. Harry fumbled with the buttons on his cloak, before Hermione stood up, reached over and began doing them up for him.

"Ron wants to kill him," Harry mumbled. "He was telling me just the other day that if Malfoy weren't locked up in Azkaban, he probably would have armed himself to the teeth and gone after him."

"I don't blame him," she said softly, not meeting her husband's eyes. Harry however took this as a sign of worry and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her closer to his body. Hermione leant her head against his chest, the soft silky fabric of his cloak warming her slightly. He placed his chin on top of her head, whispering into her hair.

"If Malfoy had taken you away from me, I'd do the same. I know how much it hurts, to lose someone you're so close to. But if he were to ever hurt you... or do to you what he did to Ginny..."

"Hush," she whispered, placing a finger on his lips. Her dark brown eyes were soft with compassion and understanding. "Don't dwell on the bad things in life. Ginny was a wonderful person and she didn't deserve the fate she was dealt. We all hated Malfoy, but none of us could have been prepared for what came. Don't blame yourself..."

"I'm not blaming myself," Harry insisted. "I didn't commit his crimes."

Hermione pulled away from him, sat herself down on the end of their bed and hugged her knees. Inside of her, she could feel a large hole forming and her deepest, darkest fears and feelings crawled through. But she dared not voice them. Not to him, these secrets she tried so hard to keep to herself.

"Do you blame yourself, Hermione?" he asked, causing her to almost topple over in surprise. His face bore no sign of motive or reason for asking, other than his general curiosity at the fact that she was refraining herself from him.

"Of course not," she muttered airily. "Why would I?"

~*~*~*~

Hermione chose to spend the rest of her day at her flat, unsure whether she would continue interviewing Draco at all after their encounter. Her conversation with Harry had done nothing but biased her judgment, as memories seemed to be the prime offer of the day to dwell on. She took to reading in the morning, before heading out to Diagon Alley to busy herself with shopping for household items, before returning home and giving the old flat a good magical scrub down.

But by the time the sun had set and an owl had come from Harry stating the Order needed him for some odd reason or another, she made up her mind that she would not be spending another evening at home alone. She didn't bother to take her bag with her this time and instead, she tucked her wand into her robes and apparated to the island Azkaban was situated on.

The sky above her was filled with even darker and murkier clouds and the foreboding; enormous ex-castle that Azkaban now was chilled her. She pondered her decision to arrive after sunset, which meant the prisoners would be confined to their cells rather than permitted into the interview rooms. But nonetheless, she headed inside the old castle, bidding good evening to the Auror at the desk in the front room, who checked her in.

Another guard was enlisted to take Hermione through a dark, stone corridor; which would lead her down to the prisoner cellblock. The guard was a well-built, raven-haired man who wasn't one for conversation. After a few minutes, they arrived in a long dingy hallway: on either side were large rooms featuring prisoners who glared at her from behind the bars. She even recognized one or two of them from Daily Prophet articles, which had reported their captures.

Finally, they neared the last room, which was facing opposite an empty cell. Lying on the worn and barely there bed was Draco. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping serenely, before the guard gave the bars a sharp tap with his wand. The silver haired man bolted up, before turning and glaring at the guard. He then realized that Hermione was eyeing him curiously and he stood up.

"Face the wall," the Auror said tightly and Draco raised his arms above his head, turning towards the gritty and mildew infested wall.

"I'll have to ask for your wand," he murmured to Hermione. "They're not allowed inside prisoner's cells."

Hesitantly obliging, she handed the tall man her wand and he tapped the cell bars with it, muttering a curse Hermione wasn't familiar with. The bars sprung apart, giving her enough room to step inside before they closed behind her.

"No funny business Malfoy," he ordered and Draco turned around, muttering something under his breath.

"I'll be down the corridor if you need me, Miss."

And with that, he turned on his heel and disappeared from view. Hermione could hear the tapping of his dragonhide boots on the stone floor slowly echo themselves into nothingness, before she turned to Draco. He was still standing next to the wall, his arms were crossed and he seemed to be more annoyed than glad of her presence in his precious and confined space.

"You've surprised me," he said plainly, not moving a muscle. "I thought I had ridden myself of you yesterday."

"I'm too persistent to let you win," she muttered, hoping that her nervous exterior had stayed back home. Draco, however, didn't seem fooled, but he was far too pompous to be so obvious.

"Too true, too true," he commented. "So, you're here to conduct business as usual, I suppose?"

She nodded. "Why else would I be here?"

Hermione instantly regretted her words. He raised his eyebrows and sat down next to her -- much too close than she would have preferred. Never the less she kept her stance, determined this time not to have either of them begging to leave. With god as her witness, she was going to have a proper interview with this man if it killed her.

"So, whose turn is it to ask a question?"

"No ones, we're not playing the questions game anymore."

"Really?" he asked, disappointed. "Then what game are we playing?"

"We're playing Auror and Deatheater. I'll be the Auror; you'll be the deatheater. Sound suited enough? I'll be interviewing you, you'll answer my questions."

"And if I don't want to play?" Draco asked sweetly.

"Then I'm going to go find someone else who will."

"Like you did with Potter?" he shot, instantly causing her to stop glaring at him. Amused by her reaction, he could almost see the heat rising to her face as she sat taken aback by his audacity.

"I'm not here to reminisce with you, Draco," she said plainly. It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes as Hermione's expression hardened. She was closing herself off. She was preparing herself for this. He knew that, he could sense it. It didn't matter though, because he needed her to know it, to sense it, to feel it.

"Tell me, why don't you want to reminisce?"

"Many bad memories," she muttered darkly, but he shook his head.

"Little Miss Liar comes out to play," he said tauntingly. "Did you ever end up telling Potter about us? Or was that just an idle 'threat'?"

"I'm not playing your game, Draco."

"I'll take that as a no," he muttered surely. She clenched her hands into fists. He was so damned annoying at times and he knew it. He reveled in it and he prided himself in it. Hermione felt the sudden urge to slap him, but she knew that he was trying to get her mad. He was pushing his limits and seeing how fast she would crack.

"Why do you hate me so fucking much?" she blurted out, her frustration clear within her words. She had surprised even herself by asking him this, but nothing could prepare her for the look of almost shock on his face.

"Hate you?" he asked plainly. "Since when have I claimed to 'hate you'?"

"Oh, let's see. There were years upon years at school, though of course that's because of your biased family beliefs-"

"If memory serves me correctly, we sorted through those... for a time," he said calmly, cutting in. But Hermione wasn't finished.

"-Then of course, there was the last few months of school. And then there's now. Now of all times Draco! Why the hell are you making this difficult?"

"Why the hell shouldn't I?" he snapped at her. A dangerous spark was beginning to ignite in his eyes, which she was fully aware of. But she had endured enough of his attitude and his mood swings.

"Because," she began, hoping for some kind of answer.

"Just because?" he asked. "For fuck sake Hermione, what kind of answer is that?"

"You know that I don't want to be here Draco, yet you make it your mission to ruin whatever career I may have in the future as an Auror. You stress me beyond belief! You ruin me! You refuse to compromise and you refuse to just listen to me!" she bellowed, suddenly feeling close to tears.

She bit her lip, turning away from him as she stood up and headed towards the cell bars. She entertained the thought of calling for a guard and escaping the wizarding prison once and for all. But things were too important now and she couldn't waste all she had accomplished merely because Draco refused to cooperate.

"And you think you have no effect on me?" he asked plainly. The cell had suddenly gone a few degrees colder and every word he said cut into her. She glanced over her shoulder at him, noting his serious expression and determined eyes. Standing up, he slowly walked over to her until he was standing but a step away from her.

"Do you really think that you can just waltz in here and act the victim, when you're the one killing me? You say I ruin you, well you've already ruined me. You say I refuse to compromise, I did once and look what happened. You say I refuse to listen, but you're not even registering the words you're saying."

"You made your choice, Draco," she said softly, a tinge of fear sparking in her as she felt his cold breath on her face and saw the dark glint in his eye.

"You made the choice for me," Draco corrected. "You chose to ruin everything and then to add to it all, you went off and decided you'd rather spend the rest of your life fucking Potter than salvage whatever was left."

And then he removed the space between them, his body now brushing against hers, as he looked her straight in the eye. She almost shuddered, blinking back tears as he continued his torment. And she summoned all her courage, looking him in the eye sharply, willing her tears not to fall before hissing under her breath, "There was nothing left."

He raised an eyebrow cockily, his face leaning in so close she felt his lips brush hers, before she whispered for him to stop. But he ignored her protests and ignored the little voice in the back of his head that was telling him that this was wrong and that he should have left things as they had been. It could be so much easier to hate someone... but Hermione was never someone. Not to him at least.

"Stop," she whispered, placing her hands on his chest. But she didn't push him away, instead she balanced herself against him, his lips once again brushing hers softly but never leaning in to kiss her. It was a silent torture for him, for her - for them both. And then as quickly as Draco had stood, he backed away, leaving a clearly flustered Hermione staring back at him shocked, as he sneered cunningly as he observed her, standing a few steps away.

"There will always be something left," breathed Draco. "No matter how much you deny it and no matter how many times you give yourself to Potter so you can feel some redemption for your actions, there will always be something left."

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to ignore the grim reality that was seizing her. Draco was right. He knew her so much better than she had thought. They had despised each other during their first five years at Hogwarts, always trying to counteract each other. Always trying to prove themselves better than each other.

How on earth had they let it get this far? This couldn't be the current reality. Years later, after they had graduated from the prestigious school, she couldn't allow him to have so much control of her mind - and her body.

"You're wrong," she whispered, causing him to scowl.

"About which part, angel?"

Hermione took a deep breath, steadying herself and hoping to drive some much needed Gryffindor courage into her system.

"I love Harry," she whispered. And to her surprise, a look of amusement captured Draco's pale and pointed face. He seemed to be on the brink of laughter and she couldn't help but wonder what was so amusing. Nervously, she reached up with one hand and wrapped her fingers around the bars that guarded the cell. She steadied herself, not liking at all, the direction this conversation was going. Something sparked within Draco and the malevolent glint in his eye made her shudder.

"You love Potter?" he asked, thought he said it as more of a statement. "Then why are you here? Why aren't you and the boy-who-triumphed curled up in front of a roaring fire discussing your day plan?"

And for once in her life, Hermione was lost for words. Why had she chosen to come to the prison instead of Grimmauld Place, to be with her husband? Why was she allowing him to play his little mind games with her, when she knew better?

"Here's a news flash for you," he muttered, glaring at her. "Love isn't brains darling, it's blood. Blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may have been love's bitch at some point or another, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."

"And you think I love you?" she scoffed half-heartedly.

"No, I don't think you love me," he whispered. "I know you love me. That some part of you never stopped and that some part of you will always consider me to be the one who understood you."

"You're so full of it," choked Hermione in disgust, but Draco was unphased.

"I never said I loved you in return."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. Some part of her secretly wished to protest, to proclaim that he wouldn't have come this far with her if he didn't. But her better judgment and her bruised ego stood in her way and instead, she stood there, expressionless as her observed her with a satisfied smirk plastered all over his face. But she couldn't let it end like this. She couldn't let him chase her out of her job.

"I came here because I was required to, Draco," she murmured to the silent cell. "And I'm not going to let you stop me from excelling."

"Is this the part where you announce you'll use Veritaserum on me?"

"No," she said. "This is the part where I tell you that I'll see you tomorrow morning. This is the part where I tell you that you either cooperate or we get nowhere. This is the part where I remind you that if you don't complete these interviews; it's your head on the chopping block, as well as mine. And this is the part where I drill it into your thick skull: I'm content with my life, so stop trying to become a part of it again!"

Hermione raised her chin defiantly, not caring for the unamused look Draco was sporting, before she called for the guard. He arrived a few seconds later, instructing Draco to turn and face the wall, before he charmed the bars to allow Hermione out. She retrieved her wand strode confidently down the corridor; oblivious to the prisoners on either side who were glaring and sneering at her.

~ENDCHAPTER3~