Arbitrary Alignment (2/?)
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Rating: PG13
Summary: A Draco goes to the Order's headquarters/werewolf fic.
Disclaimer: I have no claims on Harry Potter or any Harry for that matter.
AN: I should probably mention that this story is going to get a lot more darker.
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Awakening
"To live - that means to be a long time sick" Socrates
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That night she dreamed.
She had the nightmare again, the one where she relived that fateful night. The night filled with terror and pain. The night of terrible loss. She had this reoccurring nightmare multiple times in the past months. Every time she closed her eyes she would see their death.
This time was no different, except this time Malfoy was there.
He was standing in the circle of Death Eaters laughing along with the others, taunting her as she was forced to watch Voldemort slaughter her parents before her very eyes. Malfoy didn't have a Death Eater mask on like the others and his pale face was twisted in malice and glee. She screamed as a flash of green light sent her mother crashing to the floor to join her fathers still body. Through the tears clouding her eyes she gasps out over and over again "Mother no...please...Mother". She knows what happens next in her reoccurring nightmare, the curses, pain and torture before Harry and Ron and the Order arrive. But this time something different happens. Malfoy steps forward. Grasping her chin in one hand he touches the moisture streaming down her cheeks, fingertips drifting down her face to pass slowly, familiarly, in a mockingly gentle caress over her bottom lip. "Mother" he mocks her.
It is barely morning when Hermione jerks awake, stifling the scream on her lips.
The rest of the night she sits by the window as the sweat cools on her body, and contemplates the comparison of Malfoy's actions both earlier in the day and in her dream.
By dawn the pity she felt for him earlier had dissipated, hardening into rage.
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Malfoy was unconscious for three days . During which Hermione scanned every medical textbook available to try to determine how to fight his infection.
She hadn't heard from Harry and Ron. She never did when they were on a mission; it wasn't safe for them to send word so she was reduced to waiting and worrying. Usually when they were gone her thoughts would be consumed with them, but now with the Malfoy she found that she hadn't thought of them quite as much. She enjoyed research and solving problems, it took her mind off the danger they were facing, how they could be laying still and cold…no! she wouldn't think like that.
It was morning when Malfoy awakened but he wasn't himself.
She had been redressing his wounds when she realized his eyes were open. Although he was conscious he didn't seem to recognize her and his eyes were unfocused, unseeing. She immediately sat back on her heels fumbling for her wand than leveling it at him "Don't even think about trying anything Malfoy" she snarled at him.
He groaned, twisting on the mattress, she pointed her wand at his neck.
"Malfoy…" she began but at the sound of his surname he suddenly became frantic, thrashing in the bed and mumbling incoherently.
Hermione backed away from him. "Malfoy you…" at that he turned his head toward her and growled, snarling as he half-sat up before crying out in pain and slumping back down again.
Hermione was left standing with her wand dangling from her fingers, a twitching Malfoy, and no idea what had just happened.
As she stood there, mind reeling, her eyes wandered from Malfoy's flushed features down his chest, once white bandages blossoming with red from his now reopened wounds, across to his left arm dangling off the side of the bed.
There it was, burned into his arm, the dark mark.
She had ignored it before when she was attending to his wounds, refusing to look at the symbol of such horrible cruelty. But there it was imprinted on Malfoy's pale forearm. Odd, there was something peculiar about it. The snake that curled around the skull seemed broken in some places. Brow furrowed, Hermione stepped forward and bent down to get a better look. Pale thin scars crisscrossed over the dark mark as if Malfoy had scratched away at the skin in an attempt to remove it from his forearm.
So what? she thought, so what if Malfoy regretted his choice? so what if he regretted being branded by Voldemort?
He had made his choice.
It didn't matter, she told herself, it didn't matter that he hadn't been the one to kill Dumbledore in the end. It didn't matter that he had literally tried to peel the dark mark from his arm. The only thing that mattered was that he was a Death Eater. All that mattered was that his side had murdered her parents, and that made him her enemy. She hated Death Eaters. She hated him.
Hermione spent a sleepless night trying to convince herself she really believed that.
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NEXT UP: Malfoy's point of view of the last days, his awakening and we find out what his infection is.
Preview chapter 3: ...And although he knew it was futile and that it would only prolong the inevitable, he instinctively raised his arms and tried to protect his face. He had always imagined that his death would be more dramatic. He had thought that there would be words exchanged, that he would be forced to beg and plead for his life by whichever side caught him first. The reality was altogether different...
Pairing: Hermione/Draco
Rating: PG13
Summary: A Draco goes to the Order's headquarters/werewolf fic.
Disclaimer: I have no claims on Harry Potter or any Harry for that matter.
AN: I should probably mention that this story is going to get a lot more darker.
-
-
-
Awakening
"To live - that means to be a long time sick" Socrates
-
-
-
That night she dreamed.
She had the nightmare again, the one where she relived that fateful night. The night filled with terror and pain. The night of terrible loss. She had this reoccurring nightmare multiple times in the past months. Every time she closed her eyes she would see their death.
This time was no different, except this time Malfoy was there.
He was standing in the circle of Death Eaters laughing along with the others, taunting her as she was forced to watch Voldemort slaughter her parents before her very eyes. Malfoy didn't have a Death Eater mask on like the others and his pale face was twisted in malice and glee. She screamed as a flash of green light sent her mother crashing to the floor to join her fathers still body. Through the tears clouding her eyes she gasps out over and over again "Mother no...please...Mother". She knows what happens next in her reoccurring nightmare, the curses, pain and torture before Harry and Ron and the Order arrive. But this time something different happens. Malfoy steps forward. Grasping her chin in one hand he touches the moisture streaming down her cheeks, fingertips drifting down her face to pass slowly, familiarly, in a mockingly gentle caress over her bottom lip. "Mother" he mocks her.
It is barely morning when Hermione jerks awake, stifling the scream on her lips.
The rest of the night she sits by the window as the sweat cools on her body, and contemplates the comparison of Malfoy's actions both earlier in the day and in her dream.
By dawn the pity she felt for him earlier had dissipated, hardening into rage.
-
-
-
Malfoy was unconscious for three days . During which Hermione scanned every medical textbook available to try to determine how to fight his infection.
She hadn't heard from Harry and Ron. She never did when they were on a mission; it wasn't safe for them to send word so she was reduced to waiting and worrying. Usually when they were gone her thoughts would be consumed with them, but now with the Malfoy she found that she hadn't thought of them quite as much. She enjoyed research and solving problems, it took her mind off the danger they were facing, how they could be laying still and cold…no! she wouldn't think like that.
It was morning when Malfoy awakened but he wasn't himself.
She had been redressing his wounds when she realized his eyes were open. Although he was conscious he didn't seem to recognize her and his eyes were unfocused, unseeing. She immediately sat back on her heels fumbling for her wand than leveling it at him "Don't even think about trying anything Malfoy" she snarled at him.
He groaned, twisting on the mattress, she pointed her wand at his neck.
"Malfoy…" she began but at the sound of his surname he suddenly became frantic, thrashing in the bed and mumbling incoherently.
Hermione backed away from him. "Malfoy you…" at that he turned his head toward her and growled, snarling as he half-sat up before crying out in pain and slumping back down again.
Hermione was left standing with her wand dangling from her fingers, a twitching Malfoy, and no idea what had just happened.
As she stood there, mind reeling, her eyes wandered from Malfoy's flushed features down his chest, once white bandages blossoming with red from his now reopened wounds, across to his left arm dangling off the side of the bed.
There it was, burned into his arm, the dark mark.
She had ignored it before when she was attending to his wounds, refusing to look at the symbol of such horrible cruelty. But there it was imprinted on Malfoy's pale forearm. Odd, there was something peculiar about it. The snake that curled around the skull seemed broken in some places. Brow furrowed, Hermione stepped forward and bent down to get a better look. Pale thin scars crisscrossed over the dark mark as if Malfoy had scratched away at the skin in an attempt to remove it from his forearm.
So what? she thought, so what if Malfoy regretted his choice? so what if he regretted being branded by Voldemort?
He had made his choice.
It didn't matter, she told herself, it didn't matter that he hadn't been the one to kill Dumbledore in the end. It didn't matter that he had literally tried to peel the dark mark from his arm. The only thing that mattered was that he was a Death Eater. All that mattered was that his side had murdered her parents, and that made him her enemy. She hated Death Eaters. She hated him.
Hermione spent a sleepless night trying to convince herself she really believed that.
-
NEXT UP: Malfoy's point of view of the last days, his awakening and we find out what his infection is.
Preview chapter 3: ...And although he knew it was futile and that it would only prolong the inevitable, he instinctively raised his arms and tried to protect his face. He had always imagined that his death would be more dramatic. He had thought that there would be words exchanged, that he would be forced to beg and plead for his life by whichever side caught him first. The reality was altogether different...