My Soul Mate

Chapter Twenty Five - Back at Africa...

---

If I had, one single wish,

I'd go back, to the moment I kissed.

You goodbye, no matter how hard I try,

I can't live, without you in my life.

I walk around, trying to understand,

Where we went wrong, but I can't pretend.

It wasn't me, it wasn't you,

But I'm convinced; we gave up too soon.

Nothing left to lose, after losing you,

There's nothing I can take.

When I run to you, when I come for you,

Don't tell me I'm too late.

Maybe you'll say, you still want me,

Maybe you'll say that you don't.

Maybe we'd said, it was over,

Baby I can't let you go.

- Enrique Iglesias, 'Maybe'.

____________________________________________________________________

It was around three o' clock when Draco zoomed up and swooped down in the Quidditch pitch on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. A chilly wind blew but Draco didn't care, as his usually cold body grew colder and stiffer as he flew upstream. His insides froze and his brain screamed, but the bodily anguish was nothing compared to what his soul was suffering. Anguish hundred times deeper.

Draco flew straight, concentrating hard on his path, but his mind was on other things. Hermione, of course.

As Draco flew by the stands, he could see Hermione yelling at him, insulting and accusing him; his mind replayed each scene in front of him endlessly, as smooth as though he was watching it happen live. Hermione's each word was fixed vividly in his memory.

And fixed rather more vividly was Harry. Harry's neat scheme to destroy him. Draco had to admit, the plan was foolproof. He snorted derisively. Since when did Pansy develop brains for things other then sex?

Draco steered sharply when he realized that he was going to crash into one of the goalposts. Momentarily, his thoughts lifted off Hermione as Draco set the path for his next round on his broomstick. He hadn't brought his Firebolt. That broomstick reminded him of Harry an awful lot and Draco would rather not do so. Thus, he was flying on his old friend, his Nimbus two Thousand and One.

Draco's thoughts drifted off to Hermione again. In front of his very eyes, her charging face turned into a grief-stricken and guilty one. Her amber eyes begging him to forgive her.

But he did not.

When Hermione had tried to talk to him after Harry's whole plot had come out, Draco had shaken her off, breaking every relation he had with her. He hadn't listened to a word she said, or rather, tried to say, since Draco hadn't let her complete her sentences.

In the same way she had treated him that very morning.

Draco couldn't forgive her; he was too hurt. Hurt beyond imagination. If the whole world would have turned against him, but he could have managed to face it if only he had Hermione by his side. But in this case, she was the first one to turn against him. Her harsh words ringed in his ears, warming up his blood instead of the chill of January. He was infuriated and angry with Hermione. His heart churned and writhed in agony but this time, there was no one to see to him. The only person who mattered had smashed that very heart into a thousand pieces and flung each one wildly across miles. It would take a long time to pick them up and join them together.

But Draco promised himself that he would. One day surely everything would become all right. Draco gave another derisive snort. He was hoping. Hope ... a power Hermione had installed in him. Even though Draco tried to get rid of it he could not. Perhaps because he loved Hermione too deeply to forget her. To leave her. To walk out on her.

He knew he couldn't. One day, he would make sure that everything became all right. But he needed time. In a silent prayer, he asked Hermione to give him time.

Softly the leaves of memory fall,

Slowly I'll gather and pick them all,

Because today, tomorrow and till my life is through,

I'll always cherish having you by my side,

Even during times of pall.

____________________________________________________________________

Hermione sat on the floor in the Room of Requirement, hugging her legs close to her chest and rocking forward and backward rhythmically. She sat sideways, her left cheek resting on her knees.

The Room of Requirement had donned the look of a tower again. A circular tower with one window. One large glass window which was almost the size of the wall.

Outside, Hermione could see a faraway and small figure clad in green, flying unsteadily around the Quidditch pitch. Hermione had no doubt that the figure was none other than Draco.

The person who had loved her.

The person who had done everything for her.

The person who nearly got himself killed to save her.

The person she had imprudently dumped.

Silent tears rolled down from Hermione's eyes and down the bridge of her straight nose and then on the black stockings on her legs. Hermione made no attempt to stop them. She knew she deserved to cry.

Hermione could do nothing to redeem the mistake she had committed. She was helpless in despair. Monstrous guilt was eating her from inside, swallowing her soul. Her world had crashed down. All due to Last Night. The most horrendous moments of her life.

That Last Night which had brought never-ending Devastation. The consequences of Last Night led to a series of regrettable consequences, which had a life-long effect on some people.

Many things didn't remain the same from Last Night. Or rather, due to Last Night.

I am human after all,

Errors don me like a shawl.

All that I wish is,

To go back the past,

And change some things amiss.

But if I could, if all of us could,

The world would have been Paradise,

But sin has pulled on me, it's hideous hood.

This world is world after all.

____________________________________________________________________

At a quarter to four, Draco entered the living room from his dormitory to find Ron and Ginny there, with small suitcases that obviously held their small possessions. They gave him small smiles and said a formal hello to him in a small voice.

They had already apologized to Draco and Draco had let them go. He didn't care about them. Not even Ginny. Nobody mattered in the small world where Draco used to live on small happiness.

Because great sorrow had covered his world. Eaten it completely.

Draco walked and sat on a chair, quite far from Ron and Ginny and waited silently for Professor McGonagall to come see them off. Harry was nowhere to be seen. Draco supposed he was still shut in his room.

The awkward silence filled with even more tension when Hermione entered into the living room from the Gryffindor dormitory.

She froze for quite sometime, staring at Draco, as though she was seeing him for the first time after ages. Draco had looked at her too, but only for some moments, when his eyes coldly glared at her. After a long time, Hermione dropped her gaze and walked forwards. She didn't feel like sitting close to Ron and Ginny. But sitting away from them meant sitting close to Draco. Hermione went for the former option. She couldn't face Draco, she just couldn't.

After the longest and glummest minutes of Hermione's life, Professor McGonagall came through the portrait hole, carrying a small, brown paper covered packet.

"The Order of the Phoenix," she said crisply as she came forwards.

"The Order of the Phoenix," everybody chorused, rather dolefully.

"A very good evening to all of you," McGonagall said. "I hope you all are ready?"

"Yes, Professor," Ginny said. "But Harry...?"

"Oh yes, Potter. He needn't go today. He'll leave tomorrow evening, with Sirius and Rahel Smith. But you all have to go today. Now."

McGonagall set the brown covered packet on the table and pulled out two small balls that were black in color.

"These are Portkeys," she explained, looking at their confused faces. "You will have to travel by Portkeys, because the Floo network of Hogwarts is too busy today, with the Order members coming every now and then."

There was no response from the students. McGonagall gave one ball to Ron and one to Draco. "Miss Granger, Miss Weasley," she called, "hold the balls too."

Ginny strode forward and held onto the ball that Ron had. Hermione bit her lip as she neared Draco. Draco didn't look at her; his eyes were fixed on his ball, unmoving and unfeeling. Slowly, Hermione raised her hand and touched the ball, which was cold under her warm fingers.

"Good," said McGonagall. She pointed her wand towards Ron and Ginny's ball and cried, "Portus!"

With a swish, Ron and Ginny disappeared, as did Draco and Hermione a moment later. They didn't even say goodbye to each other on one of their last meetings.

____________________________________________________________________

Draco and Hermione landed on the floor of Alexander Malfoy's farmhouse in a swirl of colors during which Draco and Hermione were hooked onto the Portkey ball magnetically. As soon as they stopped traveling with a great force, Hermione lost her balance and fell on Draco.

Instinctively, Draco grabbed Hermione's waist and steadied her. Hermione's hands were clasped tightly on his shoulders, her face pressed against Draco's chest.

She froze. She couldn't move.

Draco felt her on his body, close and warm. Her small hands on his collars. Her breasts pressed against his chest. There was a tumult of excitement in that, trapped for a minute or two. Draco's hands on her waist tightened, making Hermione arch jerkily towards him.

Her closeness, her perfume, her touch and she above all, were driving Draco mad again. Draco wanted her badly then ever, to satisfy the hunger in him that had grown strong due to anguish and pain. It was all Draco could do to restrain himself from pulling Hermione's clothes out then and there.

Slowly, Hermione moved away from him, uneasily. She slipped from his grip and took a few steps backwards, her eyes on the floor. Draco felt her move away and a fire erupted in him due to dissatisfaction.

"I ... I am sorry," said Hermione and she bend down to pick her suitcases up. She heaved them and pulled them onto the wooden davenport, slumping onto it a moment later.

Draco breathed in heavily before coming out of his trance. He shook Hermione off from his mind and looked around the house. It was as dirty as it was when he had come around three months ago. Gradually, his eyes fell on Hermione, her bowed down, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap. Her luggage was set next to her.

Memories of last September came sweeping in front of him. He saw himself carrying an injured Hermione and putting her on that very divan where Hermione was sitting. He saw himself talking to her there, threatening to strip her if she didn't listen to him. He saw himself near the door, looking out while Hermione tried to sort things out and make peace with him on the table. Next, Draco saw himself sitting on the davenport, sweating and nervous when he had been straining to hear to the Death Eaters outside.

Everything came into his mind, seeming intensely real. It seemed only yesterday, when he and Hermione were foes. And in the night, they overcame their differences and fell in love. Almost made love in the moonlight. But when the sun rose again, repugnance and tension brewed up again. Like a fiction. Each moment was a chapter in their lives.

Everything can change in a day, Draco thought sadly as he ran his hands through his first time not-gelled blonde hair, which was constantly falling across his face. Everything can change in a day.

Another instant in his memory surfaced in his mind.

"Everything can change in one day," Draco said, "everything. Look at us. Enemies yesterday, lovers today."

"But all changes are not pleasant." said Hermione.

"Right. So it's best to be prepared."

"But you can't prepare yourself each time. Some things are always out of man's hands."

"This is out of my hands, Hermione," Draco whispered to himself, barely moving his lips. "I am sorry."

Hermione could feel Draco's raw gaze on her. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on their ends. Hermione didn't know if that was because of guilt or sensuality.

Perhaps both.

But Hermione was not comfortable. She looked up and met Draco's bluish-grey eyes. She made an attempt to converse with him.

"Er ... Professor McGonagall said that Professor Snape and Kinglsey Shacklebolt shall stay with us here, right?"

Draco didn't reply. He just nodded his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Hermione's.

Hermione bit her lip. Draco didn't want to talk to her but why was he staring at her so strangely?

"They'll join us later, won't they?" she continued.

Draco nodded again.

"I wonder when they'll come. Professor McGonagall didn't say when they will, did she, Draco?"

Draco spoke this time, breaking their eye contact. "No," he said curtly, "McGonagall didn't say that, Granger." He emphasized on her last name, indicating her to address him by his last name too.

Hermione got the cue, but she cringed when Draco said 'Granger'. As if it was a word he would choose last to pronounce out loud. But she couldn't call him 'Malfoy'. Not at any cost.

Hermione broke her gaze and looked around the dusty house. "Well, how many rooms does this place have?" she asked. "Does it have four for all of us?"

Draco ran his hand again in his hair. It was only then when he realized that the house had only one bedroom. Apart from the living room. "No it doesn't," he said. "There is only one room."

"One room? How will we manage?"

"I guess you'll sleep in the bedroom. Snape, Shacklebolt and I will sleep here."

"But there isn't sufficient space here," Hermione pointed out. "Even for more than one divan. How will you get beds for all of you?"

"Snape will add extra rooms above this floor then."

"But he can't."

"Why can't he?"

"Because any change in the appearance will give Voldemort a clue that some people are here."

"But this place has been charmed to look like a cave, Granger, did you forget?" asked Draco sarcastically.

Hermione cringed again when Draco said 'Granger.' It was too much. She couldn't take it anymore. She got up and pointed her wand towards her baggage and made it feather light. She picked them up and started making her way towards the bedroom. When she crossed Draco, she stopped for a moment and spoke to him.

"No, I have not forgotten," she said. "I never can forget anything that had ever happened between me and you here ... Draco."

And she disappeared behind the bedroom door.

____________________________________________________________________

Hermione walked into the bedroom, tears brimming in her eyes. Draco had hurt her, but she knew she deserved it because she knew she had hurt Draco much more. Hermione dropped her luggage on the floor. Tears started coming out uncontrollably and rapidly from her amber eyes. Hermione made no effort to stem the flow. She let them roll down as she opened her suitcases and started to unpack. Hermione sobbed as she cleaned the room magically. She took her skirts and shirts out of a tote bag and kept them neatly in a wardrobe. She took out her toothbrush, toothpaste and tongue-cleaner (which were muggle) and put them in the bathroom. She took out her shoes and kept them orderly in one corner of the room. She took out some of the books she had brought along (thinking that they might come in handy) and stocked them on the table beside the bed. The only thing left was one of her school robes. Hermione had just brought it along.

It was the one she had wore to that place when she had been last there and after that, she had never touched it. She didn't know why, but she had just kept it aside from her set and never touched it again. But when she was packing back at Hogwarts, her eyes had fell on it and she had instinctively put it with her other stuff. Hermione was about to take it out when she heard a knock on the door. She started and turned around to find Draco in the doorway.

Draco stared at her face. She was crying badly. There were shining tears all over her cheeks and her eyes were red. Draco had a sudden and obvious urge to wipe them off and comfort her, but he restrained himself.

"I-I am sorry," he stammered. "I just wanted to know if it would be all right if I kept my luggage here. When Snape will come, I guess I can move them out."

Hermione wiped her tears. "Why do you have to ask me?" she said, her voice quivering. She knew that Draco had purposefully come there, looking for a reason to see her. "Why does my opinion matter to you anymore?"

Draco eyes widened but his body stiffened. So that was the way she wants it, he realized. All right, I'll give to her in the same way.

"Of course it doesn't, Mudblood," he spat at her. "It's my house and I can do anything here. And to the people living here."

Hermione recoiled. The word 'Mudblood' sounded alien to her from Draco's mouth. He hadn't used to address to her for months. But he did it now. And for the first time, it pained her. But she wasn't going to show it.

"What did you mean by that?" she snapped at him. "The people living here."

Draco was shocked at Hermione's demeanor. He thought that he had hurt her. But clearly, he hadn't. She didn't care. "I meant," he hissed at her, "that you had better watch your actions over here. Don't provoke me in the slightest, or I'll do something regrettable."

"I won't mind if you do something regrettable," said Hermione, tears coming out again. Her hard conduct broke. She could not pretend in front Draco. She just couldn't. "I won't mind at all," she repeated. "At least I'll get the punishment for what I've done."

Draco gawked at her, open-mouthed. He could hardly believe what Hermione had said. At her touching words, Draco's outer behavior dropped too. "So you say that you haven't got the punishment for what you've done?" he said, his voice quivering slightly too. "I dumped you; doesn't that matter at all?"

"It hardly does," choked Hermione dropping onto the floor. "You left me. That left me dead. How can it matter if I am already dead?"

Draco was touched even more at Hermione's words. He couldn't bear to see her cry anymore.

"But if you still want to punish me," Hermione sobbed, "then go on and do whatever you wish to. I personally think that leaving me is not enough for you."

"It is." Draco said, feeling tears forming in his eyes too. "It is more than I can take."

"Don't lie," said Hermione, looking directly at him. "You can never leave me. I am in your reason and in your heart. I am your soul mate."

"You are not!" Draco shouted. He was shocked yet again to see Hermione speak his mind. She had always done so before, leaving the recent events out. But none of them had ever left him dumbstruck.

"I am; I know that," said Hermione. "Because no one understood you better than I had and no one ever will."

"No!" Draco screamed. Those words were poisonous to his ears. He couldn't bear them.

Just then, a flash of lightning thundered in the sky and in the blink of an eye, it had started to rain. Hard.

"Granger, what are you doing?"

"Can't you see Malfoy? I love getting soaked in the rain."

"You'll enjoy the rain later, Granger. We need to go."

"Come on, Malfoy. I didn't have a bath today."

"You'll take your bath at the house Granger, let's go!"

"Please..."

"This can cost me my life, Granger. And the last thing I expected from you is immaturity. Granger, I don't want to see you bathing."

"As if I want you to!"

"Okay, Granger. If you go with me to the house now, I'll let you soak in the rain on the roof. Deal with me for that, please!"

"No, I won't go now!"

"I'll join you if you want, but please, Granger. Come on!"

"Promise?"

"I swear!"

"Okay let's go."

The scene replayed in front of Draco and Hermione, between them. More memories freshened.

"You know something," said Hermione wistfully, "you never fulfilled your promise."

"And I never will." hissed Draco viciously at Hermione and walked out of the room, leaving Hermione to cry as torrentially as it rained outside.

____________________________________________________________________

Four o' clock faded into five. Five o' clock faded into six. But Draco and Hermione had seen neither hair nor hide of Snape or Shacklebolt. Though that was the last thing they could care about. They had more pressing matters on their mind.

Draco was hurt in a thousands places and to relieve himself of the pain, he got drunk again. He drank to his memories. The moments he had spent with Hermione. And then he drank to the Devastation.

"Thanks to you," he mumbled, out of his mind again, "that my life's destroyed."

He didn't know that the Devastation would destroy more lives and the effects would last forever.

Then, Draco had fallen asleep in the living room, on the davenport, his mind too heavy. Even though it was raining, the weather was enervating and Draco had taken out his shirt. All that he wore was deep grey pleated pants. And he lay asleep till about half past five. And when he woke up, he just stared out of the window, thinking and sobbing inwardly.

Hermione, on the other hand was a complete wreck in the bedroom. She had tied her hair into an untidy bun and had changed into a tank dress. She had washed her face, but in vain. She had started crying again. She decided that she needed to keep herself engaged. If Snape and Shacklebolt came and found her in such a state ... Both she and Draco would be asked awkward questions.

So Hermione washed her face once again in the bathroom and sat down on the bed and took out her Ancient Runes book and started to study the text on Defending Spells and translate it.

But her thoughts wandered to Draco back again. Miserable, Hermione shut the book and dropped her scroll of vellum and quill. She looked around the walls and remembered the time she and Draco had been there, taking their first steps towards a truce. One by one, each moment started floating to her mind, chilling her to the bone in spite of the humidity.

Hermione remembered the cave Draco had taken her to. The beautiful dragon. The Ancient Rune parchment.

The Ancient Rune parchment?

Hermione gasped. She had completely forgotten about the parchment piece after she had come back to Hogwarts with Draco; the situations had been so demanding.

Hermione got up from the bed and walked towards the cupboard. She looked for the school robe she had brought, hoping to find the parchment there.

She did.

She found the parchment and looked at it. It looked still the same. Worn and faded. But it gave out an aura of some sort of curio that bewildered Hermione.

Hermione walked back to the bed and took out a fresh roll of parchment and her eagle feather quill. She translated the heading. And then, screamed out loud.

The Emancipation Potion.

"Draco!" she shrieked, in half incredulity and half joy. "Draco, come in here, now!"

Draco heard Hermione yelling. He furrowed his brows. Her voice sounded urgent and excited. Something very out of place from the kind of mood that prevailed in the air between them. Nonetheless, he went into the bedroom to check out.

"What happened?" he said irritably. "Can't anyone have any peace when around you, Granger?"

Hermione's excited spirits fell at Draco's hard words. She gave him an anguished look. "I just found something," she muttered, looking away from him, "and I thought it would be of your use."

"What?"

Hermione stretched her hand with the vellum of the Emancipation Potion recipe towards Draco. Draco snatched it away from her. He looked at it blankly. Hermione then realized that Draco couldn't read the Ancient Runes.

"What is this crap?" he barked at her. "Are you wasting my time, Mudblood?"

Hermione's eyes started to water again. She looked away from him and said, in a choking voice, "It-it's the re-recipe for the E-E-Emancipation Po-tion."

Draco stared at Hermione's back. He couldn't believe his ears. "Are you serious?" he asked her, his false manner of apathy vanishing.

Hermione, who didn't care for the potion anymore, nodded, still not looking at Draco.

Draco wanted to kiss Hermione, to hold her in her arms and to tell her thank you. But he didn't. He donned his casualty again. "Where did you find?"

"I had found it long ago," Hermione said, wiping her tears vainly, "back in September, when both of us were here. I found it in that cave."

"Then why didn't you tell me before?" Draco said, his temper rising.

"I forgot about it. I found it and I just kept it. Situations changed. I completely forgot about it."

Draco calmed down. He couldn't blame Hermione for that. "Anyway, than you. I'll get it translated by my mother. She has learnt Ancient Runes."

Hermione turned to Draco, her eyes redder than ever. "So have I," she whispered.

Draco acted as if he hadn't heard her. Instead, he asked, "But why would the Potion's recipe be found in my cave? No one has been there except for Uncle Alex and me..."

Hermione couldn't care less about the Potion anymore or Draco's uncle. But she knew how the recipe had come about there, in the cave. "Your uncle," she said, making an effort not to cry again, "wrote the Potion. I told you back in September, remember? That I think Alexander Malfoy invented something? He made the Emancipation Potion."

Draco knew he ought to be glad but in front of his eyes, his most prized possession was a wreck. He found himself not caring about the potion either. Hermione seemed to have noticed it.

"Are you not happy about it?" she asked. "You can get rid of the Dark Mark now."

"I've realized that," said Draco softly, but his voice filled with menace. "But I don't need it exactly anymore, do I? Someone told me that one need's to have the attitude to become a Death Eater. And I, clearly haven't got that attitude."

Hermione felt tears running down on her face again. Before she could help it, she blurted out, "What are you playing at?"

Draco nonchalantly shrugged. But Hermione continued.

"You are a monster," she told him. Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. He never thought that Hermione would have the effrontery to call him names again. Yet, Hermione did.

"You are a heartless monster! You just can't feel about others. Hell, you don't even care about others! You didn't understand what I felt when I saw you with Pansy, did you? You don't even feel how I am feeling now, without you. And then, your hard words."

Draco stared at Hermione, taken aback. The parchment fell from his hands and he retorted back at her. "And why didn't you feel the way I felt when I felt when you dumped me?" he hissed at her, slowly coming towards the bed. "I am didn't insult you publicly the way you did to me."

Hermione had no answers. Draco advanced to the bed till he was standing next to it. Then he sat down on her side.

"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" he went, his voice low and dangerous. "You walked out on me. Offended me. All right, I can forgive you for that, but you didn't trust me. You believed in what Pansy said rather than what I did. If I hadn't chased after it, you wouldn't have given me a chance to speak."

"That's exactly what you're doing to me," Hermione said. "You wouldn't let me speak either. You won't hear me out. Give me one chance, please. You call me Mudblood, I don't care, but what you said a moment ago ... I was ready to slap you."

Draco didn't say anything.

"Tell me one thing, Draco, if you found me having sex with Harry or Ron -"

"Hermione!"

Hermione smiled grimly at him. "Even the very idea makes you feel nauseate and I saw you doing so. How would I feel?"

Draco opened his mouth wordlessly. He had never given this view a thought. None at all.

"You know what Pansy told me? That you shag her each night because I can't satisfy your needs."

"Bloody hell! Did I ever say anything about that? How can you ever think that I not contented with you?"

Hermione stared at the bed sheet. She had no answer for that. Drop after drop, tears fell onto the white sheet, dampening them.

Draco looked at Hermione deeply, zealously. She looked alluring in the dress, hugging herself slightly, her long, shiny legs folded to his side. A sudden wave of excitement passed over him and Draco felt himself getting aroused. Whatever happened the entire day had increased his appetite, his hunger. He craved for Hermione and he couldn't help it. And whenever he was alone with Hermione, he looked upon at her as his. Entirely his. He touched her with that right.

Mine, a voice in his mind chanted. Mine, mine, mine, mine. Like a mantra.

Draco touched Hermione's feet slightly.

Hermione jumped and shot her head up to see Draco, his eyes clouded with desire. His lips were slightly parted, his face far away. She knew what was coming.

When Hermione jumped, Draco withdrew his hand a few inches but then again he laid his hand on her ankle, clasping his long fingers around it. He rubbed the skin with his hands and gazed at Hermione. Her mouth was open was too, uncertainty written across her face. But she had stopped crying.

Draco grabbed her ankle roughly and pulled Hermione's leg, and eventually her whole body towards him. Startled, Hermione found herself on Draco's lap, one of her hands on her chest, which was trembling violently. Draco caught both her hands and placed them on his bare and muscular chest. Hermione could feel his furious heartbeat under her hands.

The moment Hermione's hands touched his chest, Draco's skin burned under her fingers. He placed one of his own hands on one side of Hermione's neck and the other on her waist.

"You've hurt me," he whispered, "too much."

"I am sorry," said Hermione, moving her hands up and down Draco's chest. "I was brainwashed."

"My whole world crashed down when you left me. I could have killed myself. Everybody had left me. I don't care about anybody else in this world. But you too."

"Not anymore Draco, not anymore. You promised me that you'd always be with me, forever and for always. I promise to believe you, forever and for always. I promise."

Draco pulled Hermione's face closer to his, so that their noses touched. "I love you," he said. "I love you more than anything."

"I know. And I love you too."

Draco kissed her. His tongue coming out and battling with hers. A fiery passion erupted within both of them and they made love not in their usual, tender and gentle way, but in a hard and urgent way, as if time was short and happiness limited.

Draco grabbed Hermione's waist roughly and slammed her onto the bed. Hermione didn't complain. Draco leaned over her, pressing male arousal probing from his pants hard against her. He broke the kissed and trailed down her neck, sucking and biting and licking each inch of skin he could reach.

And for those that he couldn't, he made arrangements. In one swift movement, he pulled out Hermione's dress, leaving her in only a black brassiere and knickers. Draco didn't refrain from pulling those out also, leaving Hermione completely naked in front him. He bit into her breasts and flat plain of her stomach. He was swift and then, he had his fingers in her, pumping fast inside her.

Hermione arched upwards at the sensations Draco invoked in her. There was difference in Draco's demeanor, she noticed. He was ardent but in a way that made Hermione feel that he was punishing her. Trying to hurt her just enough to feel some pain, yet careful in handling her. He squeezed her curves but at the same time, kissed her mouth. He bit her skin but massaged his hands on those parts all the same. But Hermione didn't complain.

Draco indeed was punishing her in a way. He was taking out his anger and frustration on her body, going out of his mind and sometimes hurting her. But he couldn't help it. And he was relieved that Hermione didn't protest. And he knew why she didn't - she understood what he felt. Because no one understood him better than she did and no one ever would.

Draco could feel his gonads arousing with every passing moment. His mind still chanted 'Mine, mine, mine and mine' in his brain, until he was dizzy with desire. He wanted to lay Hermione then and there. But he didn't want to scare her or make her think that he was avenging her. But staying any longer with her in such passion would not help.

So he pulled up from Hermione's body. "I need to go," he whispered. He kissed her once again. "I love you."

And he was gone away from the house, leaving behind a puzzled Hermione alone.

That was the moment Hermione hated the most in her entire life. Till the end of time. Harry's plot started the Devastation but what the actual Devastation took form after Draco disappeared for sometime from that moment. Many lives were destroyed, many worlds crumbled, many were affected after Draco went away.

Because the moment Draco left the house, Lord Voldemort seized his golden opportunity and kidnapped Hermione, minutes after she had dressed back sadly in the bedroom.