Clandestine Whispers

>>>>>24 Ultimate Debauchery

Hermione wandered all around Hogwarts. She was like a zombie, unable to think, just slowly, listlessly walking around, reactions dull. Harry was concerned but couldn't really help, and Hermione suspected Ron was off wondering about the strange connection between her and Draco. But she knew the truth about Draco. And she despised it. For the truth was dark, and sinister.

The day was a good one, bright, sunny, and everyone was cheery and active. Hermione, however, was the total opposite. She felt that, now that she had been connected with Draco in so many ways, that she sucked up the light shed on her. Sucked it up and then disentegrated it. Suddenly, Hermione bumped into someone. Looking up, she realized who it was immediately, and began to turn away. "Wait!" Draco grabbed her wrist tightly, desperately hanging onto her. Hermione suspected that if he'd had long nails her wrist would be pierced through with them, he held her wrist so tightly.

Allowing herself to be dragged into a stuffy, thin closet, Hermione suddenly broke down, seeing his eyes glinting in the dark like a cat's, reminding her of so many good memories. It was like a cake being cut. Everything soft, and sweet, suddenly split into pieces by a sharp, dangerous knife. Pressing her face against his shoulder, Hermione sobbed, "Draco, why didn't you tell me? How long have you been...one of them?"

Stiff with anger, sorrow, and nerves, Draco did not make any move to comfort her, and, voice hoarse, said, "my father knows about you. They all do. You were part of their plan. But that plan didn't work, so my father sent me a letter saying if I didn't become a...one of them, then...they would kill you. You are a muggle-born, after all. I've only been one of them since the night you found me climbing up the Hogwarts wall. I was coming from the Death Eater meeting in the Forbidden Forest."

Draco's voice cracked as he said, "Bloody hell, Hermione, I regret it so much. I wish this never happened, wish it was nice again, all love and contentedness. But the world isn't like that, Hermione, I've known the world is full of pain for my entire life. That's how I got those marks on my back. He punished me; he put the Cruciatus curse on me, and when I was little, whipped me. The dungeons became my home for a few years, almost. I knew every nook and cranny of those god forsaken tunnels like the Slytherin Commonroom."

Hermione, now crying more, said, "I know you felt pain, Draco, I know it. But you can't take it back, you can't fix it, you can't rewind your life. I'm sorry you had to endure, I am, but...you hurt me. Your lying hurt me. You could have told me! Could have shown me the letter, done something! It was an emergency, you should have contacted me before doing anything. We could have went to Dumbledore, owled the Ministry, done something! But now it's too late, and...you're one of them, I can't be with you, I can't, it's wrong, we'd be on opposite sides!"

His voice now filled with emotion, Draco whispered, "I'm sorry Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, help me, forgive me, god, kill me! I don't know what to do anymore, my feelings are too overwhelming to cage them anymore, I can't live behind the mask anymore, I'm slipping! My control...my soul...Hermione, I want to die!"

Unable to speak except to say, "don't..." Hermione wrapped Draco in a hug, this one not one of passion, but one of comfort, giving him a shoulder to cry on, giving him someone to hope with. They stood there, in pitch dark, unbeknownst of their futures, bonded by love yet seperated in every other aspect, their love surrounding them, impossible and forbidden.

~~*~~

Draco lay, silent and immobile, on his bed. In his hands he toyed with the Malfoy ring, spinning the ring between his index and thumb, gliding it over his knuckles to land in the palm of his other hand. He chucked the ring to land in the empty bowl on his desk; the tapioca hadn't made him feel any better. Sighing, he put his hands over his face, and rolled over on his side.

He stared thoughtfully at a chess board that was on his bedside table. Then, slowly, wondering at his own actions, he picked up each marble piece, letting each glide against his fingers as he placed them precisely on their proper squares. Then, once it was all set up, he manuevered the board so that he would be able to see both teams, and then went back to lay down on his bed.

He lay there for a long time, staring at the chess set-up. His owl then flew in through the window, distracting him, and Draco opened up the letter, quickly skimming its contents. Throwing the letter into the fire once finished, he quickly threw on a shirt, grabbed parchment and a quill, and then scribbled a note on it, saying, "I've got to warn Hermione! He's coming. He sensed the muggle-born association in me. I knew He would come for us. And I know we won't be prepared. Never."

~~*~~

It was just like in Hermione's dream, but now real. She sat, huddled under the table, wrapped in Harry's invisibility cloak. Draco sat on the plush emerald armchair, staring thoughtfully into the imitatingly cheery fire. Of course it wasn't cheery, though. This was, after all, the Slytherin common room.

She coughed, and then asked, "Draco? Are you alright? Does the Mark hurt?"

He continued to stare into the fire, as if not having heard her. The flames, flashing brilliant gold and red, made his pale face look flushed, cheeks tinged pink. But his gaze was stony and cold, like a sheet of ice. The room was large, dark, flashes of green here and there, the dank, dungeon walls of Slytherin residence causing Hermione to shiver. And she couldn't stop coughing, it seemed like mountains of dust threw themselves down her throat in attempts to choke her.

The only thing different from her dream was that she didn't know what debauchery he'd done to her, and there was no poison coursing through her veins. But, just like in her dream, she was invisible underneath a table, and he sat in the chair, staring into the fire.

They waited for Him. The one who had haunted both their dreams in different circumstances. The dark, cruel, powerful wizard, eyes red, nostrils slit like a snake's, ugly in his evilness.

Suddenly, Draco turned towards her, his stare piercing. "Stop coughing."

Hermione was puzzled, "why?" she coughed again.

"Stop coughing. Because I said so." She remained silent, and suddenly, began to cough again and again, her throat feeling extremely dry. Her eyelids were heavy, her throat felt itchy, she attempted to cough it out, whatever it was. And suddenly, she felt pain. Pain unlike anything before, perhaps like the Cruciatus Curse, she wouldn't know, she'd never had it cast on her. Gasping, she slowly opened her eyes, and saw blue and yellow underneath her skin. It was happening! Just like in the dream! Poison inside her, seeping through her veins...

"Draco?! What's happening to me?"

"The potion. The potion I took that turned me into the creature that fought Harry. You have that potion in your blood now."

Hermione's body jolted against her own will, and she clenched her teeth, gasping, "but how?" Silence lasted long, making the pain even more unbearable. He gave no answer.

The silence seemed to last forever. Suddenly, Draco began to hiss, sounding quite like a snake. "He is at Hogwarts. Searching for us."

~~*~~

It seemed like eternity that Hermione waited. The pain was horrid, hideous images being brought to her mind against her whim. So hard it was to wait, silently, in pain, that she wished He would come so the pain could end.

She pressed her lips together, hard. Repressing this scream was so tough, so excruciatingly painful. But knew that if she made a sound, He would find them. So she remained silent, bearing the pain, watching, as if in a daze, the blue and yellow trickles of poison that passed beneath her skin, through her veins.

She looked out from under the table at her ally, knowing he couldn't really see her, but that she could see him, and he knew she was there. All she could see was his profile, pale skin glowing an eerie light orange cast from the dancing fire crackling in the hearth.

Staring at his profile, she bit her lip, and asked, "How long will it take him to get here, so we can get this over with?" Although she already knew the answer.

"He will come when the twilight calls, and when all of my hopes are swallowed in darkness. The time of the peak of our vulnerability; as our enemy, he will take this opportunity."

He paused, letting the silence hang, like a wet cloth, smothering her breathing. Or maybe it was the poison that did that, not the silence. She didn't care to know.

"You know he will slaughter us. You kept hope only because of me. But I've known my fate for a long time, although your constant insisting that we try, try again never really let me accept it. But admit it now; we are going to be slaughtered, defeated, once and for all. You've known it all along, haven't you?"

She almost cried out in pain; the poison coursed through her blood quicker now. Would she die before he did, or vice versa?

Her so-called ally, the only one who had forever truly been on her side, but also the cause of all her misery, and the only real foe to both of them; he turned towards her.

She suddenly felt herself falling, body numb when it hit the floor. Hermione remembered this part of her dream very well. He had spoken to her, but she hadn't been able to understand what he said. But now, as reality, this part of the dream changed. She heard his words clearly, this time.

"I will explain to you what has happened. That alarm about my dying, when the news spread through Hogwarts, that was a lie. I upset a Malfoy family ghost, and she lay in front of me and stuck a knife through us both. I almost died. In the process of my near death, a replica of me was created, a robot, identical me, soulless, only able to be controlled by me. However, before I could die, my body, which was in a coma-like state, was given the Auctorita-Creperum potion, the potion that makes one desire power. And I am such a dark person, trained by my father, and full of loathing for so many. Everything that followed, me wanting to do the Ultimate Power spell, accepting the Hlikorpin feather from my father in order to complete the spell, and promising to kill Harry Potter, it was all under the potion's influence. I wasn't myself; another body, an evil shell, formed around the true me.

"The reason I didn't die when Potter's sword stabbed me was because it wasn't me he saw die. It was the replica of me, he died. I planned it all out, don't you see? Once realizing I'd made a replica of myself, the desires of my dark heart flared up again. I began to form my plan. My fake identity couldn't die though; he didn't have a soul, a beating heart. But it seemed so. However, one part of my plan went wrong there. I had meant for it to seem as if I arose from the dead, when it would actually be the replica. However, even though it was the replica that was impaled on Potter's sword, not me, it made the effects of the potion sink into almost nothing, and the evil shell from the potion fell off of me, making me revert to my true self just after I revived the so called 'dead Draco.' The replica was my real body, you see, but my soul went into the shell of evil formed by the potion. When the my body was so mortally wounded, my soul went back to it's proper place. If I'd returned any sooner to that body, I would have truly died. But it was my work with controlling the replica, not your tears, that brought 'me' back.

"The Dark Mark I accepted to save your life. And now I regret doing so. I simultaneously love and hate you. You loved me for what I am, accepted me. You made me feel wondrous things I never felt before. And you're beautiful, in your own way. For these I love you. But you made me lose control of my emotions, and everything else I had valued before in life became meaningless. I did not want to be dark anymore, I wanted to be on whatever side you were on. But the darkness inside the dark angel I am compelled me to not give up, and continue trying to be evil. So I did. You're the cause of all my misery, and all my joy. Your very existence tortures me!"

Hermione began to understand. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she stared wordlessly up at him as he continued. She then closed her eyes, refusing anymore to look at his face. His face hurt her. His words hurt her. Everything about him hurt her. Just as her very existence tortured him, everything about him hurt her. They tortured and yet they loved each other.

He continued, saying, "You comforted me when possible, you stayed with me through all dangers, and you loved me with all your heart. You ignored my flaws and instead saw the inner beauty that I'd never seen in myself until you came along. But I also hate you! I'm a Malfoy, have always been. I am proud of my lineage, and here I am, falling for a muggle-born know-it-all! I didn't want to love you, but everything I did to hate you, every thing I was supposed to feel when near you, I never felt or did anymore, because I couldn't enjoy it.

"You destroyed my life, because you brought me even more pain, made me contemplate my darkness, and made me shun power for love! That dark being, that was me, in a certain sense; the dark part of my soul made it possible. I did have that power. And I planned that my replica would follow you out of the Malfoy Manor property. Then, while you and Potter were talking to Weasley, I planned to steal away, with my ultimate power. But instead, all I achieved was snapping my replica's existence apart when the potion faltered due to the replica being stabbed; deciding not to escape for power, I stayed. I couldn't stand leaving you and so didn't go through with my plan of ultimate power.

"Ultimate power brings ultimate darkness, and vice versa. But it is one or both of those that I desired to have. But with you as a third desire, I couldn't choose. You, friend of Harry Potter, who is everything I'm not, and a Gryffindor. Weasley, who is poor, who I grew up hating, and who befriended Potter before I could, banished all my chances of greatness being good. So I chose to pursue greatness on the dark side, instead. I heeded my father's training, I always kept my mask of neutralism on. But you destroyed my mask, made me unable to control anything! And your best friends are two people I loathe. Also, you're muggle-born. And you used to hate me. But now you love me. And that makes it all even worse.

"I was taught, through my experiences in life, that pain encases this world like a dungeon, and pain is always present. Happiness is temporary, and so there is no use searching for it. The only thing I should ever have searched for was power, which, although hard for most to gain, was easy for me to gain, because I was filled with darkness, and those who are dark inflict pain instead of feeling it, and they have power. I promised myself I'd do anything to get this power by being as dark as I could, anything to stop myself from feeling pain. And so, in order to be dark, I was cruel, cruel to everyone I met in the world. And whyever not? I didn't love anyone, no one loved me, I had ever right to be cruel, plus, I'm a Malfoy, and a Slytherin. Cruelness is a part of me.

"But you reached out into that darkness, and found light. You gave me a taste of love, and all the power and darkness I had melted away. I couldn't let go of you, Hermione, no matter how much a part of me wanted to. Each of my clandestine wishes have been fulfilled by having you in my life, Hermione. But somehow, I still feel pain! And the fact that, with every wish that I kept secret, private, clandestine, fulfilled, that I can still feel pain, this makes me loathe you, because if you, my every clandestine wish, hadn't come along, than I'd be fine, it would be the way it always was. Although the clandestine wishes would not have been fulfilled, the obvious wish, the wish for power, I could have had that. If only our love had been different, somehow not destructive to my destiny of darkness and power. Tell me the truth, Hermione, you knew that love between us would never work; you've known it all along, haven't you?"

He glared at her, giving her a look so insidious that she almost melted, because his glare was like a dagger, a dagger that cut through her defenses, the walls she'd so carefully constructed against him, cut through them like a knife through butter. But deep down, she knew the feeling he felt most about her and their warped relationship was contrition. He regretted having subjected her to such debauchery. Facing her with this glaring, tight-lipped expression, he repeated his question, yelling, "You've known it all along, HAVEN'T YOU???"

Hermione, eyes brimmed with tears, suddenly knew what he was going to do. She was smart, but she thought she'd known him better than this. The potion made her almost unable to speak. So long had she loved him, trusted him, felt he was special to her. And the answer was no. She hadn't known all along that their love was doomed. Maybe at first she'd thought that, but as their relationship progressed she thought perhaps it would work. As she loved him more and more she had been positive it would work. But, she now supposed, that had only been because her friends hadn't yet found out about her and the Slytherin. They had kept their relationship a secret, and when that secret had been found out, all their defenses and denials had been broken, revealing the real doom that encased them both like a cage.

As his gaze pierced her, Hermione closed her eyes, and said, with great difficulty, "no. I haven't known all along. I loved you greatly, I was content, I worried, it was hard, because everything was so emotional, and your past and future were clouded by darkness, but I endured that, and I believed in us. I had faith. No, Draco, NO! I did NOT know it all along! It is you who knew it all along Draco Malfoy, you and you alone!"

Realization hit her like the wrong chord being struck on a piano. He had known all along that it wouldn't work out! He'd known! He had betrayed her, deceived her, done it on purpose. The potion in her blood was the very Auctorita-Creperum potion that had ran through his blood. Some had stayed in him, because he was so dark, cruel, and deceptive. And it had leaked into her; he had infected her. His blood had mixed with hers, and thus, the potion, or rather, poison, had been inside her ever since. But it had taken a long time to take effect, because she was muggle-born and Gryffindor, not naturally meant for darkness, which the potion had a hard time adapting to.

Once it had adapted, the effects had begun. But instead of giving power to her, like it would to a dark, power-desiring wizard, it weakened her, because she was not a Pureblood. He had given the potion to her. It was Draco's fault. He and his potion were killing her. The only question now was whether he loved her or not. This was Hermione's only hope. Deep down she knew that, of course, he'd planned to deceive her. He'd used her, played with her, and had been going to then run off with his ultimate power gained. But she had stopped him. Having given him love, she'd made him doubt his desire for power. And he'd abandoned it for her.

But now, apparently, he was regretting abandoning that power. The only question now was whether this was intentional murder, and he would leave her to die and go rediscover a way to get power, or if the poison had been unintentional, after he'd abandoned the power-gaining plan, and he loved her after all. If he loved her, than this poison had all been a mistake. If he didn't, and had faked the love all along, than he had intentionally murdered her. And now, knowing this, her pain, physical and mental, increased. Figuring all of it out had weakened her even further. Hermione felt numb almost throughout her whole body. But her sorrow, pain, and torrent of tears, she felt acutely.

The poison sped hot in her veins, as, very slowly, she said, "Apparently, my finding light inside your darkness intrigued you. You became attached to me, and your desire for darkness and power, what you based everything upon, what was your foundation in life; I destroyed it. But you never grew up knowing love, so how can I trust you ever really felt it?" She paused, seized with short spasms for a moment; the poison, oh, how it hurt! Then, she looked back at him, her gaze the most piercing it could ever get. Her voice, now almost quiet as a whisper, was slurred with effort and pain, as she said, "Draco...did...you...did you ever...ever truly love me?"

Her eyes, filled with pain, sorrow, and anger, locked with his blue-grey gaze. Draco's facial expression was as neutral as ever, yet it had no effect on her. His eyes sparkled in a way she'd never seen before. And they were not tears. In that moment of silence, with no answer to be heard from him, Hermione's heart broke. Shattered like glass, fragility increased at this sudden act of his of ultimate debauchery. He had done this to her.

Murderer.

She realized that, no matter what he might feel towards her, they had bonded together. There had been glittering parts to it all. Draco was like a snake, evil, slippery, and cunning. But he was a snake made of diamonds, cunning and clever like a snake, yet shiny and irresistible like diamonds. She had loved the creature, though. Hermione had merged with this diamond serpent.

She never found out his answer, never knew whether he truly loved her or not, just barely still intently gazing at him. She breathed her last breath, and her eyes fluttered close, dark lashes framing her cheeks, now with certain finality.

THE END.

AUTHORS NOTE: There is an epilogue to this story. But no one is required to read it; this can be the ending for whoever wants it to be the ending. For those who want more, read the epilogue. Please remember to review. I hope you enjoyed this story, and if not, I will ignore flames because most flames are filled with death threats and useless blatherings of I hate this and I hate that with no reasons as to why. If your reason for hating this story is because the ending was not happy, I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm not writing an alternate ending. This is the type of story that I believe can not have an alternate ending; in my opinion, it would be strange, because this is a drama story, sortof a mystery, and, in the end, tragic. Any happy ending to this story would destroy the effect I wanted the ending to have--the effect it will have on the readers who don't flame at tragic endings, that is.

I never wrote this story with a tragedy in mind, and in fact had no idea of any sort of ending when I started writing it. All I knew was that I wanted to write a Harry Potter fanfic, and that I wanted it to involve Draco Malfoy, one of my favorite characters. And, I love romance, so I added Hermione in there--also one of my favorites, though not as loved by me as Draco--to make it more interesting. Eventually, it ended up that both of them were equally involved, and that they were the main focus of this story. I love reading drama, especially when people do it well and it evokes emotion in me, and so writing drama came almost naturally to me, and that is the effect I hope to have had on most readers--emotional, so that people who review can truly have something with feeling to say.

I very much enjoyed writing this story, though I do realize and sympathize with you if you were disappointed at the tragic ending. But, around in the middle of writing Chapter twenty-one or so, the ending came to me. Not only was it dramatic, but it would be an emotional ending, which I knew I could have fun writing, and also it would explain Hermione's dream. For each of Draco's dreams, he experienced similar yet not literal situations in his life. For Hermione's one strange dream, every bit of it rang true.

One thing that I hope most if not all readers can understand after reading this, is that Draco Malfoy is not evil. Now, you may say, "WHAT? But he killed her! His potion infected her and that's what killed her!" True, the potion did kill her. But it wasn't like Draco planned to murder her in the very beginning. He didn't go through everything with Hermione all the while smirking inside and thinking, "I'm going to kill this Mudblood in the end." No, it wasn't like that. Draco Malfoy, you see, is a very self-conflicted person, in my mind. Sure, he is sarcastic, has a knack for insulting people, and can be quite arrogant, but underneath it all is a person who has experienced every harsh aspect of the world, and next to zero pleasant ones. He is filled with pain, you see. It is not love of bullying or downright evilness that makes people harsh; pain is what makes people harsh. For example, if a kid was brutally beaten by his parents when he was a kid, he would harbor anger against them as an adult, and would perhaps beat his children when they did something upsetting. And so on and so forth. When people feel pain, it is only human that they react with "no fair!" and, either purposely or nonpurposely, inflict pain on someone else. Some, of course, can control their emotions better, and live in harmony with everyone and everything regardless. But not Draco Malfoy.

Not only was Draco trained in the Dark Arts when young, but his father was a Death Eater, experienced pain and greed for power due to Voldemort, and so Draco didn't have a very pleasant childhood. Thus, the arrogant, Mudblood-hating youth who prowls around disturbing Harry and co. Not that Draco truly hated Hermione as a Mudblood--his father brought him up to despise Mudbloods, and Weasleys. Of his own will, he never really hated Hermione.

Anyway, my point of all this is that, although the poison he infected her with was Draco's doing, he didn't do it thinking he wanted to kill her all along. His heart became confused as to what it wanted. So basically, this story is one of romance, drama, and conflicting hearts, filled with clandestine wishes.

Still have questions?

Read the epilogue!