Until the End

Chapter Two

The memory of his lost love still haunted Draco Malfoy. At night he could swear he heard her faint whisper in the frail breeze that made its way through his open dormitory window. His grey eyes, once magnetic and fathomless, were now void of all their vividness. His eyelids grew more and more heavy with each passing night that he missed out on sleep. He wanted more than anything for the pain to subside and the hole in his chest to fill, but he wasn't even close to that point. Ginny Weasley's face seemed to hover in front of him like a ghost who wouldn't leave your presence.

He hated the Slytherin dungeons, yet it was here that he had to return every evening to sleep - or rather, lie awake and try with all he had in him to rid himself of the lingering visions of his red-haired beauty. This particular night, Draco had wandered onto the grounds and to the bank of the Lake, taking in its crystal clear appearance. It was enchanting and heartbreaking at the same time for Draco, seeing as the Lake was where he spent much of his time with Ginny. The reminiscence crashed onto him again like a wave crashing onto the shore, only this tide didn't ebb back into the ocean from whence it came.

He dragged his feet beneath him with great difficulty; they seemed to hold extra weight in them. In his pocket, a blade that his father had given him at the tender age of twelve resided. The Lake's icy surface sparkled in the moonlight and Draco, for once, felt serenity sweep briefly over him before removing his father's knife from its resting place and dragging it across his perspiring skin. A small trickle of blood ran down his forearm and Draco smiled at it; a minute smile, yes, but a smile nonetheless.

"Draco..." he heard his name gently whispered softly through the night air, filled with compassion and concern.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing here, Hermione Granger?"

"Let me see your arm, Draco."

"Answer my question, Hermione."

"I'm checking on your well-being. Don't think I've forgotten what you went through."

"Like you care," he murmured.

"Why wouldn't I care?"

"Why should you? You've never shown the least bit of concern for me before recently."

"Things change..." Hermione echoed hesitantly.

"Oh?"

"Yes, they do. Now let me see your arm."

Malfoy extended his wounded limb out to Hermione, who gazed upon it with empathy. She knew what pain could cause one to do something like that. Hermione took out a handkerchief she'd been keeping with her recently and wiped the trickling blood from Draco's forearm, then held it there. He looked into her eyes with a look of disbelief and thanks. Here he was; falling in love once again. This sort of thing was what caused him excruciating pain the first time around. He let out a small breath, whose steam could be seen in the frigid night air.

"Come on, let's get you to Madam Pomfrey."

"Hermione, you don't have to..."

"Don't give me that, Malfoy. I'm going to help you and there's nothing you can say to make me change my mind."

"Oh yeah? What if I called you a 'Mudblood' again?"

"Not even that," Hermione said with a smile.

So Hermione led the self-injured Draco up the marble staircase to the first floor Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was a bit cranky about being bugged about wounds so late, but quickly mended Draco's lesion and sent them to bed.

"You know Hermione, I don't think anyone's ever shown this much care for me before. I...really appreciate it."

"It's no problem, Draco."

"And I know this is a rather foolish request," he continued, gently grabbing her arm before she could make her way back to Gryffindor Tower, "but would it be too much to stay with me tonight? I might do something drastic again if I were alone."

"It'll be my pleasure."

Descending the marble staircase, Draco and Hermione tried their hardest not to be discovered by Filch, or Snape (who had a nasty tendency lately to traipse the halls and corner students himself). The gloomy dungeons of Hogwarts castle extended as far as the eye could see, but Hermione focused on the tortured soul in front of her. The pain that he no doubt felt and the heaviness of his heart were reflected in his cold, grey eyes. Hermione, however, was convinced that all he needed was simply true and consistent care.

Draco uttered the password to the painting covering the entrance to the Slytherin common room and led Hermione inside. An eerie green glow seemed to come from the very edges of the room, and small amounts of smoke came from certain areas. How anyone could consider this dormitory a home away from home was beyond Hermione, but she kept her eyes and her mind on the man in front of her (he was pretty much a man now, seeing as they were in the final stretch of their seventh year now).

Curling up in Draco's bed next to him, Hermione shivered as a light yet frigid breeze blew through the open window and gently ruffled the hangings on his four-poster. The moon shown through the curtains and flooded the room with moonlight, giving the room a ghostly shine. Draco softly turned his body so that his face was facing Hermione's and took her face in his hand. His cool grayish gaze sent a chill up Hermione's spine, but she closed her eyes in feeling his hand on her cheek.

"Thank you, Hermione," he whispered almost inaudibly to anyone unless they were lying right next to him.

"You're welcome. I love you," was her response, although he wasn't looking for one.

"I love you too."

Days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and Draco and Hermione had become inseparable. Many a night Hermione could be found in the arms of Draco Malfoy, curled up in his moonlit four-poster in the Slytherin dormitories, body clutching bare body. Being as cunning as she was, Hermione could always come up with an explanation for her frequent disappearances. God forbid Harry and Ron would find out about she and Draco; their entire relationship would collapse.

"Hermione, you've been off to study every night for the past two weeks! You can't relax for one night and watch us play Wizard's Chess?"

"No Ron, I'm sorry. This year's End of the Year Exams are too important."

"If you say so Hermione. Just don't overdo yourself; it's not good for you."

"Leave me alone Ron! I don't need your sympathy or help."

"No need to give us your icy shoulder, Hermione. We're only looking out for you."

"Well you don't have to!"

Frozen inside from abandoning her friends, Hermione exited the portrait hole in a storm and made her way to the dungeons, where she met more frigid temperatures. She could've sworn she saw her breath as she approached the Slytherin common room and muttered the password, which Draco had given her. Hermione's eyes began to water as she entered Draco's dormitory and plopped down on his bed. He, of course, had some unfinished business to attend to and instructed Hermione to wait for him in his dormitory. The room was dark, the only light coming from the full moon rising in the east, pouring light, as usual, into Draco's four-poster. Hermione fell asleep quickly, gazing upon the glowing orb in the night sky. When she awoke, however, a dark and menacing figure was hovering over her.

"Wake up, Miss Granger."

And in a split second, rough hands took hold of Hermione around her waist and lifted her from the bed. Hermione could make out just enough to tell it was a male form. He pelted to the Slytherin fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo Powder into it, stepped into the emerald flames and bellowed "Malfoy Manor!"

The two bodies fell out of the Malfoy's fireplace, and Hermione stumbled but got to her feet in time to see Lucius Malfoy's looming form before her. His eyes matched those of his son's, though more years of a cold past could be seen in Malfoy Sr.'s. He pulled off his cloak and rushed toward Hermione, catching her by the ankle. She helplessly grabbed the ground in front of her as Lucius dragged her to him, lifting her up once more and carrying her up the stairs.

"Why Draco has such taste in females at that forsaken school is beyond me," Lucius said, lingering over Hermione.

"How did you know where I was?"

"Believe me, Miss Granger," Lucius said with an evil and snooty snare, "you have much bigger things to worry about right now."

"Help!" Hermione cried as Lucius began his evil task...then stopped.

"Maybe I should just kill you and omit the rape. Yes, that's a good idea. I don't want to mix with any Mudblood..."

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Meanwhile, Draco approached his four-poster to find it empty. Not being alarmed by Hermione's absence, seeing as she might simply be running late unable to get away from those idiotic Gryffindor friends of hers, Draco decided to wait. After waiting for a hour, however, he recruited the help of Harry and Ron, who he lucky caught only because they were on their way to the library to fetch Hermione.

"You two, I need your help. Have you seen Hermione?"

"She's in the library, isn't she?"

"I suppose, but she was supposed to meet me two hours ago. I was an hour late, but I waited another hour for her."

"She was supposed to what?" Ron said, a shocked and hurt tone in his voice.

"There's no time for that now, Weasley. Let's see if she's in the library."

They raced up the marble staircase and made a thorough search of the library, but found no sign of her. Draco's nerves were starting to stand on edge, and his blood was beginning to boil. The memory of Ginny and his father loomed before his eyes, and his heart gave a painful stab. The thought of having to endure the same event with Hermione sent a whole new wave of despair and fury.

"Come on, I know where we have to go."

So Draco got his supply of Floo Powder and threw it into the Slytherin common room flames when they'd reached the dungeons in a fit of pants, shouts, and sparks. "Malfoy Manor!" Draco yelled as he stepped into the emerald fire, followed by Harry and Ron. They tumbled out of the fireplace and bolted as quickly as they could up the main staircase and, by instinct, toward the bedroom. Before they could get down the hall, however, Lucius appeared, standing in their way as calm and as menacingly as ever.

"What did you do to her?" Draco growled through gritted teeth.

"The question isn't what did I do to her, it's what did I do for you."

"If you laid even one finger on her..."

"What difference does it make you ungrateful little bastard? Have I taught you nothing over the years? You disappoint me Draco. For a while I thought you were headed down the right path, but I see now that I was sadly mistaken. I said you would pay the price, and so you shall."

Draco sprinted to the bedroom without wasting another minute to find Hermione's limp form on the bed, the life no doubt wiped from her body by the Killing Curse. Her hair was mangled with perspiration, and her eyes were wide open with fear. Tears welled up in Draco's eyes with unsurpassable pain, pain which he hadn't endured his entire life. For the second time, he'd lost someone he loved and had loved him back. After the ache that filled his body subsided, a new feeling overtook him; rage. His muscles grew and his eyes squinted with a look of such hatred it was unfathomable.

"You've gone too far this time, father. You can hate me all you want, but when you hurt the people I care about, you cross the line..."

With one violent wave of his wand, a loud shout of "Stupify!" and a bright flash of red light, Lucius Malfoy lay in his own limp pile. Draco slowly let his hand down to his side and stared at his unconscious father. Draco walked over to Hermione and held her hand in his own, and a thought came to him. He pointed his wand at her chest, exclaimed "Ennervate!" but she did not rouse. Her eyes still maintained their same glassy demeanor, and her arms still hung immobile at her sides.

Draco made his walk of misery back to the fireplace in Malfoy Manor, allowed Ron to toss some Floo Powder into the fireplace, which took the three of them back to the Slytherin common room. Draco collapsed in a fit of sorrow and built up anguish once more, replaying the vision of Hermione's flaccid form on the bed. His father's overpowering image also forced itself into Draco's mind, causing even more excruciating distress. Draco felt his tears would never stop flowing as he fell into his four-poster, planning not to get out of it for a very, very long time.