Savior

It was morning. The light shown greedily through the curtains at Grimmauld Place, dancing over her eyes as she slept. He watched her with reverence as her breath fanned over his outstretched arm. She was so beautiful when she slept. Trailing his fingers over her exposed shoulder, he found he wanted to freeze this moment in time. To never leave this room, this bed, with her, would be the greatest pleasure he could imagine. And they had so little pleasures like these left.

There was a soft knock on the door, startling him out of his reverie. He edged himself out from beneath her, careful as she stirred in her dreams. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he opened the door and saw Harry’s welcoming face, a grin spreading over his face. “What is it, mate?”

“Is Hermione still asleep?” He could barely contain his glee.

“Yeah, I only just woke up. What’s going on?” Now he was curious. Something was up.

“Come downstairs.” Harry turned on his heel and headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Blearily he followed. Once in the kitchen, Harry exploded. “You’ll never guess what happened last night!”

“What? What happened?” He plunked down into a chair and rubbed his forehead, the aches from the day before catching up with him.

“Last night, I was leading some members of the Order on a raid. We were following up on some intel on a Death Eater safe-house. We were thinking that nothing would really come of it, our source wasn’t exactly one of the best, but we thought we’d check it out.” He began pacing, his excitement barely contained. “Well, as you can imagine, we arrived at the safe-house, and low and behold, there was Death Eater meeting going on right before our eyes! We couldn’t believe our luck! And you’ll never guess who we captured! Come on, guess!” Harry was so ecstatic that he began to jump around the room like a rabbit.

“I don’t know Harry! I only just woke up! My brain isn’t completely on yet. Why don’t you just tell me and get it over with.” He watched at Harry finally calmed enough to tell him.

“Lucius bloody Malfoy! Can you believe it!? I couldn’t even believe it! I mean, Lucius Malfoy! Finally we’re going to get some information about Voldemort that we never could have even dreamed of having before! Isn’t it fabulous!?” Harry looked over and found his best friend slouched over the table. “Ron! Wake up you! Wake up!” Shaking his shoulder, he watched Ron’s eyes glint as all the engines started firing. “Ron! This is fabulous news! We’ve finally captured Lucius Malfoy!”

As realization dawned on Ron’s features, a wide grin spread over his face. He was up before one could blink. “I have to tell Hermione!”

~*~

The Manor was cold and empty. Even as he stood in the ballroom, looking out over the gardens where the sun shown ever brighter, the entire place just felt cold. He didn’t mind. He was cold, so naturally everything around him was cold as well. He just didn’t like his home being cold. He crossed his arms and glared out the window, wishing that today didn’t have to come.

“Draco?” His mother’s voice made him jump. “Draco dear, what are you doing in here? You have to be getting ready. We’re leaving soon.” Narcissa’s voice faded slightly as she walked away.

He should be getting ready. It was nearly noon and he had places to be. Slowly turning from the gardens, he found himself thinking on times when life was simpler. Well, life was never really simple, but it was less complicated. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he remembered the first time he’d ever flown on a broom, or his first trip to Hogwarts on the train. His first kiss. His first chocolate frog. Yes, there was a time when life was less complicated, but the burning on his arm only helped him to remember that those times no longer existed. He now lived in a time where children were no longer safe at Hogwarts, a time where people knew never to go out at night for fear of the Death Eaters who patrolled, a time where what one felt no longer mattered. All that mattered now was what you were told, ordered, demanded. All that mattered now was his obedience to his Dark Lord.

~*~

“Ron! Ron, we’re going to be late!” Hermione was slipping in her earring just as Ron was stepping out of the bathroom, his tie all jumbled.

“I can’t believe I can’t remember how to tie a tie! I only did it every morning for six years of my life, why the hell can’t I do it now!?” He trudged over to Hermione, holding his tie out in front of him, his eyes begging her to do it for him.

“Oh Ron, you’re so adorable when you’re frustrated!” Hermione quickly did his tie, and when back to fixing her hair. They were having a well-deserved dinner party at the Weasley’s to celebrate the capture of Lucius Malfoy. Hermione could hardly wait to see Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. It had been months and she was sorely lacking some girl time.

Ron placed a chaste kiss on her neck before grabbing his jacket and heading downstairs. “Don’t forget the flowers for your mother, Ronald!”

“Got ‘em! Come on! We’re gonna be late!” Hermione smirked into the mirror before her, hands on her hips as she chuckled. Slipping on her shoes, she snatched her coat from the bed and took off down the stairs to meet Ron. Within moments they were standing in the oversized fireplace at Grimmauld Place, floo powder in hand.

“The Burrow!” They were swallowed in green fire.

~*~

“Harry dear! So lovely to see you! Welcome, welcome!” Mrs. Weasley snagged Harry into a powerful hug as he stumbled through the Weasley’s front door. “Ron’s waiting for you in you’re bedroom. He has something to talk to you about. Best hurry up! Oh, and Hermione’s with Ginny out in the garden! Arthur! Arthur, where are you! You better not. . .” Harry shook his head as Mrs. Weasley’s voice trailed off through the house, making his way up the stairs to Ron’s room.

“Ron?” He knocked on the door, waiting for Ron to answer.

“Harry!” Ron burst through the door, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him inside. Once in the room, he through Harry onto the bed, making sure that he was sitting and paying full attention. He then shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Bringing it between them, he lifted the lid to reveal a small diamond ring set in a thin gold band, encrusted with tiny rubies. “What d’you say?”

For a moment, Harry was speechless. “I’m flattered Ron, but I’m in love with your sister.” He looked up into Ron’s eyes, waiting for the tirade to start. Instead, Ron just erupted with laughter.

“Oh, Harry! This isn’t for you! It’s for Hermione! I just wanted your opinion! Come on mate, I’m not a pouf!” He sat down next to Harry and held the little ring up to the light. “So, what do you think?”

Harry smiled at his friend and took the ring. “I think Hermione will love it. Not to mention that it’s Gryffindor colors, that should make her proud. When are you going to propose?”

“Tonight, during dessert. I’m so nervous I can’t think straight!” He took the ring back and placed it into the little box, safely shoving it back into his pocket. “We were in Diagon Alley the other day, just shopping for some random necessities, and we passed by that wedding shop near Fred and George’s. I just kept going, but Hermione stopped and looked at this one dress in the window. I saw her there, looking at that dress, I tell you it must’ve cost a fortune, and I just knew. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. So, I popped back here and picked up my Great Grandmother’s ring. At least I think it’s my Great Grandmother’s. . .it could be my Great, Great Grandmother’s. . .but I’m not entirely sure. All I know is that tonight, I am going to ask Hermione Granger to be my wife.” He turned and looked at his friend, a grin plastered to his face unlike any before seen.

“I’m happy for you, Ron. Both you and Hermione are going to be so happy together. It’ll be good for the two of you to have some happiness.” Harry smiled merrily at his best friend. He only hoped Hermione would say yes. He had a feeling that something, or someone, was holding her back. He’d had that feeling ever since sixth year, and he could only hope and pray that Hermione had finally let him go.

“Boys! Girls! Dinner is ready! Oh, and Fred and George are here! Come down before it goes cold!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice carried through the house, reaching the ears of any living creature within it’s walls.

“Be right down mum!” Ron turned to Harry. “Wish me luck?”

“Like you’ll need it! Come on.” Harry jumped up, pulling Ron with him as they tore down the stairs. They ran into Ginny and Hermione on their way down, and their entrance into the kitchen was nothing short of disaster. As they spilled into the already packed room Fred, George, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, Luna Lovegood, and a petulant looking Neville Longbottom accosted them. Hermione practically burst with happiness.

“Oh, you’re all here! Oh, this is just too good to be true!” She managed to hug every single person before they all finally found their way to their seats at the long table that was spread before them. On it was spread more food that they could have imagined. There weren’t many places that held this much food left, what with the war and everything.

“I thought we could all do with a nice, big, family dinner for this celebration. Come on, tuck in everyone!” Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and sparkles erupted all around the room, bathing everyone in a magical glow that warmed everyone’s hearts in this dark and dreary night.

~*~

Dinner passed with such ease and vivacity that Hermione hardly noticed her dessert when Ron placed it before her. She looked over at him, a smile playing at her lips. She realized that at this moment in time, she could never feel more content, any safer than she did right now.

“Hermione?” She turned to Ron, her mirth growing with every second.

“Yes, Ron?” Smiling at him, she placed her hand on his knee.

“I have something for you. Well, it’s more of a question, but…well…anyway.” Without further ado, he slid from his chair, allowing one knee to touch the floor, the other leg left bent. As he reached into his pocked, Hermione could feel her eyes growing wide with amazement. And then he pulled out a small velvet box, presenting it to her warmly. “Hermione Jane Granger, would you do me to honor of becoming my wife?” He was looking up at her with such happiness, such hope that all Hermione could think to do was fling herself at him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she practically screamed with joy.

“Of course, Ron! Yes, yes, yes I’ll marry you!” She laughed as his arms engulfed her, their smiles bringing unbelievable light into the room.

“What’s all this about?” Fred’s voice was barely heard by the couple as they separated. Ron beamed at her as he slid the delicate ring onto her finger, the gems glinting in the light.

Hermione turned to their friends and family. “Ron and I are getting married!” The rest of the evening was a whirlwind of champagne and laughter among friends and family. It seemed that life could not get any better.

~*~

Later that evening, when all were asleep, the crack of apparation was heard just beyond the Weasley’s front door. Minerva McGonagall and various other members of the order made their way silently into the Burrow, their presence going almost unknown as the night went on. Only Mr. Weasley knew they had arrived, and as he crept down the stairs and into the kitchen he could feel the tension of the news they bore.

“Arthur, wonderful to see you.” Minerva’s voice was terse and clipped, and Arthur knew something horrid was about to be uttered.

“What’s wrong?” He sat at the table and gestured for all to sit, but only Minerva took a seat beside him. She took his hand in hers, worried etched over her features.

“We’ve been forced to agree to something terrible.” She could not meet his eyes.

“What do you mean? I thought everything was well. Harry’s been saying such wonderful things. What’s going on?” Something was not right, and Arthur knew a storm was coming.

“What’s going on here?” Mrs. Weasley appeared by the stove, and all was silent.

“Molly, please sit, Minerva was just about to tell me something that I think you should hear.” After she had taken at the seat across from Minerva, Arthur looked pointedly at McGonagall. “Now, what’s this business all about?”

~*~

Hermione woke pleasantly, and found she could not possibly be more happy than she was at this moment. Rolling over, she found herself looking into the very familiar eyes of Ron Weasley. “Good morning.” She smiled broadly. He returned the gesture.

“Good morning.” He leaned in and kissed her, this moment of adorableness growing even more so with every passing minute.

“I think we should get married next month. I mean, with all that’s been happening, I think people could do with some happiness. We’ve found ours, but I think that other people need to be reminded of that fact more and more with the passing times. I don’t think life has been harder for anyone than it has these past few months.” Hermione’s speech was fast, but Ron was barely listening.

“What ever you think is best.” He grinned at her, and she blushed furiously. He pulled her to him, and just as they were giggling and rolling around the bed like children, Harry burst through the door.

“They have a right to know!” He slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two before him. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s voices could barely be heard beyond the thick wood, and Hermione and Ron were more curious now than ever.

“What’s going on Harry? We’re sorta in the middle of something.” Ron’s voice was playful, and Hermione giggled even more.

“I think the two of you should get dressed. We have some things to talk about.” His voice was cold, his face stern. “I’ll be waiting just outside.” He left without another word, and Ron and Hermione wasted no time dragging on their clothes and opening the door to him once more. When he came back in, he paced before them for a good five minutes, glancing at them every so often only to look away as soon as he caught their eyes.

“Harry! Would you please stop pacing and tell us what’s going on?” He froze and looked at Ron. He looked at Hermione. They looked so happy sitting there together. He didn’t think he had to the heart to tell them. Unfortunately, he knew he had no other choice.

“You can’t get married.” No way blunter than that.

“I beg your pardon?” Hermione shook her head and stared at him. He must be crazed.

“You can’t get married. It’s as simple as that. There’s nothing I can do about it, and there’s nothing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley can do about it. You can’t get married, you can’t live happily ever after, and you can’t ever see each other again.” He could feel the tears building up, and he refused to let them fall.

“What are you talking about Harry? We’re getting married! And there’s nothing you, the Ministry, of even Voldemort can do about it!” Ron’s rage was biting, and Harry hated it.

“I’m sorry Ron. You can’t get married. Hermione is to be traded.” He looked at Hermione, and waited.

“Traded! Have you lost your mind!?” Ron was close to killing him, but he couldn’t look away from Hermione. She would understand.

“Yes, Ron, traded. The official papers were drawn up last night. It was the Minister’s idea. Both sides met last night. I guess he was in a panic. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were there, and apparently the idea is that Voldemort wants something that means something to me. And, he’s willing to give something up in return. Truthfully, the offer was too good to pass up, according to the Minister. McGonagall came by last night and told Arthur and Molly. They told me when I came down for breakfast this morning.” He was afraid to look at Ron, because if he did he wouldn’t be able to let Hermione go. He would see the hurt and pain there, and he couldn’t let himself be drawn into it. He had to be the driving force, the stone-cold pillar that was holding everything together. If nothing else, he could be the bad guy for Ron, if that’s what he wanted. He didn’t care, but right now, this was all that mattered.

~*~

The door closed behind him quietly, but the sound it made echoed in the silent walls of the Burrow. Not a single sound was heard through out the house. When he reached the kitchen, everyone was there. Fred and George were slouched together by the door, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley huddled at the end of the table, Ginny and Luna sat silently by Neville, eyes closed solemnly while Neville tried to contain himself. Tonks and Lupin sat quietly together by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting for any sign of hope. When Harry accidentally knocked over a pot, the clang was so loud the birds feeding on the grass outside fluttered into flight. Everyone looked up at him expectantly. He shrugged.

“They’re talking. I didn’t have anything else to say.” He slumped into a chair beside Ginny, holding his head in his hands as gravity pressed on him.

~*~

“You’re not going! It isn’t fair, and it isn’t right! They’ll kill you over there! I don’t care what treaty HE signs, he’s still a bastard and a liar and he’ll kill you the first chance he gets! You’re NOT GOING!” Ron had exploded as soon as Harry had left the room. He had begun pacing about the room, waving his hands about wildly screaming at no one in particular, but screaming nonetheless. All the while, Hermione sat numbly at the foot of the bed, not a single thought roaming her head as she listened to his rant. Her only thought was that of the look on Harry’s face as he spoke earlier. How torn he had looked as he begged her with his eyes to understand. And then, it was as if she could no longer control herself. She could feel the tears as they streaked down her cheeks. She looked down at the beautiful ring Ron had given her, twisted it around her finger, pulled it off. Standing, she moved towards Ron, stopping him in pace. He was suddenly silent. “Hermione.”

She could no longer control the sobs she’d been holding back. They tore from her like daggers to her heart as she wrestled with her duty. Her legs could no longer hold her up, and she melted to the floor, clutching her arms around her chest as she wept. Ron’s arms found their way about her, and soon he was clasping her to him as if she were a lifeline he could never let go of. They remained thus for what seemed like years before Hermione’s tears began to ebb, and she pulled back to look at him. He himself had tears in his eyes, and she gazed at him with all the love in her heart.

It was then that he understood. “No. No, no, no, no, no.” His tears fell silently as his heart broke. She touched his cheek.

“I love you, Ron. I always will.” Her voice was choked and broken. “Never forget that. I will always love you.” She kissed him. She poured everything she had into that kiss, and when she could no longer bear it, she held him close, inhaling as much of his scent as she could before she tore away. Grabbing her wand she fled down the stairs, leaving Ron alone in an empty room with an empty heart.

~*~

He couldn’t feel anything anymore. He was running through the forest, running to get away, running to find some place to hide. His heart tore at his chest, begging to be relieved, but he couldn’t stop now. He could only continue to run. And then he was falling. He’d tripped over some inconspicuous piece of wood, and now he was on the ground. Tumbling and turning, he somehow managed to get back up, somehow managed to not notice the fact that he was covered in blood, somehow manage to get to the portkey and be torn away into the night.

“Aaaaraaagh!” He landed sharply on his side, crushing his arm as he cold marble pressed up against him. He opened his eyes to find the familiar walls of the Great Hall of Hogwarts. It was different now, of course, but he knew this room by heart and no change could be made that would make him forget. And then his aunt swam into view.

“Get up Draco! The Dark Lord is waiting for your report! GET UP!” She was screaming at him. His ears rang with her voice as he rolled to his other side and slowly managed to stand. “Hurry! Hurry up!” He could barely walk, but he made it into the dungeons. Bellatrix was close behind him as they hurriedly made their way into what used to be the Slytherin Commonroom. They were met with five Deatheaters guarding the portal to the Dark Lord’s chambers. He quickly made his way through the swirling smoke and found himself standing on a dais surrounded by followers shrouded in masks. Before him, on a thrown of black glass sat his Dark Lord. Before him was Lord Voldemort.

~*~

Hermione stood before the mirror in her room at Grimmauld Place. Ginny was there with her, pinning her hair and arranging her robes around her. She was made to look presentable for Voldemort, although she failed to see the point. She knew as soon as she stepped from the fireplace she would be killed. She knew that she would never see Harry or Ginny again. She knew she would never have a family dinner with the Weasley’s again. And she knew that she and Ron would never have a family of their own, and that was the most heartbreaking truth of them all. Ginny’s faint sobs drew her from her thoughts.

“Oh, Ginny. Don’t cry! Please don’t cry!” She turned to her friend, pulling her into a fierce hug as she tried to contain her own tears. “If you start to cry, then I’ll never be able to leave.” Ginny hugged her back, and then she pulled away.

“I’m sorry Hermione, but I can’t say goodbye to you. Maybe Harry can just toss you away, but I can’t watch you go to your death! I can’t watch you accept that fate! I won’t do it! I’m sorry!” And then she was gone. Hermione sat on her bed, staring out the door after her. There was a soft knock, and Harry slowly made his way to her.

“It’s time to go. They’re expecting you.” His face was like that of a statue. His voice was cold and harsh, and all Hermione could do was nod.

She stood and walked out the door, grabbing her wand and slipping it into the pocket of her robes as she left. Making her way down the stairs, she could hear Ginny in her and Harry’s room. She could hear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in their room as she passed their door. She heard Luna in her room. And when she reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped into the parlor, she saw the faces of people she cared about. She made to move to the fireplace, but a hand on her own stopped her. Turning she saw Harry clasping her hand in his. His eyes found hers. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender and strong kiss to her knuckles before dropping her hand and folding his mask of ice back into place.

Hermione moved to the fireplace and looked one last time around her. He wasn’t there. She hadn’t expected him to be, but she had hoped. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. Just as she threw down the powder and shouted, ‘Ministry of Magic,’ she saw him tear around the corner and into the parlor, his eyes locking on the green flames in the fireplace as they enveloped her.

He hadn’t even said goodbye.

~*~

When she stepped out of the fireplace at the Ministry of Magic, the Minister and several of the Aurors greeted her. She smiled weakly at McGonagall, a smile that was not returned but only acknowledged as she was led into a small room containing only a table. On the table sat a singular object. She knew it to be a portkey, but she was a little surprised at what the object was. It was a finger.

“Now, Miss Granger, this portkey will take you directly to Hogwarts. As you know, it has been taken by the Dark Lord, and you shall be met with Deatheaters as soon as you arrive. This portkey has been created for this sole purpose and will no longer exist once you arrive. This is a one-way trip, Miss Granger, and you shall never be returning to us.” The Minister finished his little speech and left the room. Hermione was left alone with the portkey and her sorrow. Closing her eyes, she breathed heavily before opening her eyes and stepping forward and taking the portkey in her hand.

~*~

“My Lord.” As his shocked expression was masked, she bowed her head and waited. She had made her move, and now all there was left to do was wait for him to accept. He spoke.

“How dare you? How dare you come into my domain and humiliate me this way!?” She had expected this. “You know we cannot touch you! You know the treaty forbids it! So I ask again, how dare you!” She blinked once. When she opened her eyes again, she raised her head and looked him in the eye.

“I am part of the treaty. You should know this. . .unless you have yet to sign it. In that case, I might as well leave.” She began to stand, but a boot on her hand froze her in place.

“Part of the treaty you say?” His voice was cold.

She flinched as his boot pressed down on her hand. “Yes. Part of the treaty. Why else would I be here?” Her voice was equally cold.

“Ah, well, signing that treaty should be very prudent then shouldn’t it?” He turned to his left. “Bring me the treaty.” The man beside him aparated out of the room. The boot lifted from her hand. “As for you, I say it is high time you were marked. Hold her.” Two men stepped forward and took hold of her arms, yanking her up as they did.

“I’m not going to run away!” She shook free of them. “I am here to honor the treaty that is signed by both sides! I will stand on my own, without your help!” Her eyes were fierce as the men backed away from her. The man on the throne chuckled as he stood.

“It is a fairly painful process. Their purpose of holding you was merely so you wouldn’t faint from exhaustion. But, to each their own. I am a merciful Lord, and I was only thinking of your welfare, of course. You may refuse their help, but you will eventually take it.” Raising her head high, she thrust her left arm out towards him, bracing herself for the inevitable pain.

He chuckled again. “Oh my dear, I couldn’t help noticing the extremely low back of the gown you’re wearing. Turn.” She gritted her teeth as she slowly spun to face the crowd before her. One pair of eyes caught hers. They bled with unshed tears of silver and pain. Her own golden brown eyes were full of fear as she felt the cold tip of a wand press into her back. Pain blistered across her flesh as the spell was cast, marring her skin for all to see. As the sting spread down her spine, she felt a single tear trickle down her cheek. A matching stream flowed from silver eyes at her feet.

The wand lifted from her skin and a last blast of pain splintered over her body. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he spoke. “Turn.” She obeyed. Her eyes met his as his handiwork was displayed for all to see. A single gasp echoed through the room. Splaying the length of her back, from shoulder-line to hip-line, a writhing tattoo swirled in black over her delicate flesh. The one mark she swore she would never allow to touch her skin.

The Dark Mark.

~*~

He sat, his head held delicately in his hands. He breathed, his chest heavy with some unknown weight. There was no air in the room for him to breath. There was no light. There was no warmth. He was so cold, so frigid and lost…and alone.

There was a knock on the door. He inhaled deeply before sitting straight in his chair. “Come in.” He clasped his hands gingerly in his lap.

The door opened to reveal a tired looking Blaise Zabini and trailing behind him, a hooded figure. “The Dark Lord had me bring her to you. She’s to stay with you.” He waited for Draco to dismiss him.

“Thank you Blaise, you may go.” Blaise bowed his head and left quietly, closing the door behind him as he went.

Draco looked at the girl before him. He was about to speak when she removed her hood. He was at a loss for words. This lasted a grand total of seven seconds, but it was still there. When he’d regained his composure, he made to stand, but the sharp pain in his leg protested. “Argmph!” He fell back into the chair, but not before she was at his side, balancing him. Everywhere she touched burned, and only when her hands retreated did he feel the ice she’d left.

Once he was safely stable back in his chair, she stepped away from him. He gazed up at her. Her eyes were full of defiance and pain. He pulled his mask on and looked out the window. “These rooms are my apartments here. However, if the Dark Lord wishes you to stay with me, we shall move to the Manor and accommodations shall be arranged for you there. Is this clear?” Only then did he look back at her. His eyes pierced hers. She shattered.

“How dare you talk to me as if I’m a child!? You know just as well as I do that I shouldn’t be here! I had to give up everything just so that stupid treaty could be signed and for what!? I get to live with you and your sour attitude! I get to endure your snide remarks, your biting insults and your prejudice beliefs! Not only yours, but everyone else’s around here! Not to mention—“

“That is quite enough!” His voice boomed through the small room. She was instantly silent. “You cannot speak to me that way here! You are in my world now and you must do as I say!” She glared at him. Before he could react, she had stormed forward, drawing her wand, pressing it into his throat. This close, he could see the tears in her eyes.

“How dare you?!” Her voice was merely a whisper, but he could hear the sobs hiding behind her rage. He felt the ice return as she glared at him. But as she glared, he felt her rage succumbing to the sadness in her eyes. She closed her eyes, turned away, opened her eyes and looked away. Her breathing was ragged and pained, and her grip on her wand was loosening every second.

Before he could think, Draco’s hand found its way to her cheek, turning her to face him. He looked into her eyes, and then her tears fell. She dropped her wand in his lap, her hand gripping his shirt as she crumpled to the floor at his feet. His hand remained on her cheek, still turning her eyes up to his own. Her free hand grasped his wrist, stroking his arm and moving over his hand to interlace her fingers with his. And then she was sobbing. She leaned into him, her head resting on his knee as cry after cry wracked through her body.

They remained that way for hours, until finally, silence engulfed them. She turned her head up to his, their eyes met. Her mouth moved before she’d formed the thought. “What is going to happen to me?”

And it was then that he saw it. She was terrified. Hermione Granger, the radiant and powerful princess of the Golden Trio, was terrified. And he, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince and Deatheater, could offer no words of comfort. When he spoke, his voice, though cold resonated with emotion. “You must learn your place. You must learn it quickly. When someone gives you a command, you must obey. You must learn to hide yourself…or you will be killed.” He stroked her cheek, and as he did, her hand clasped his once more. And then they were silent.

~*~

Okay so, AN: If anybody is wondering, which you might or might not be, the whole point of this story is about how Hermione has to be given to Voldemort because of the idiocy of politics. Now, because of this, she’s thrust into this world of deception and lies, and one, ultimately where if she does not find her footing, she will lose her life. To put more of a fine-point on it, she must change into one of them, before she can truly become herself…if that makes sense…

And okay, wow, I sooooo did not mean for this fic to get as dark as it’s gotten, and unfortunately I have a feeling that it’s going to get a shitload darker…My sincere apologies. I hope that everyone is still reading who originally started from the beginning, and I hope that you feel the need to leave a review and tell me if it’s complete utter shit (in which case I’ll do something drastic and fix it) or if you just want to tell me you love it. Either one is appreciated…cause seriously, I’m dying for input.

So, thanks for reading, and I hope you stay tuned for the following chapters!

-The Crimson Sheath