As soon as their feet touched the floor, her anger boiled over. With a good aimed swing, she slapped Draco hard across the face. The sound echoed through the room, cutting through the tension like a knife.
The crack of her hand against his cheek was like a gunshot in the confined space. His head snapped to the side, a stunned expression twisting his features. The smug sneer he'd worn moments ago vanished, replaced by a blooming red handprint and a flicker of something akin to bewildered pain.
"HOW DARE YOU PUT ME IN SUCH AN UNCOMFORTABLE SITUATION". Her voice trembled with fury as she caught her breath. "DON'T EVER TALK ABOUT ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN. I AM NOT YOUR PROPERTY!"
His hand mirrored her slap, flying up to cradle his stinging cheek. His eyes, wide with shock and a flicker of something akin to hurt, darted to her blazing form. The air crackled with tension, a stunned silence hanging heavy after her outburst. Clearly, her reaction had been entirely unexpected.
"Hermione, I didn't mean—" he started, but shecut him off.
"No, Draco. You don't get to dictate who I am or how I should be treated," her voice was low, but every word was filled with intensity. "I am my own person, with my own thoughts and feelings. I won't tolerate being treated like some possession you can control."
His expression hardened, hurt turning to defensiveness. "I was just trying to protect you, Hermione. You know how Weasel feels about you, what he did to you. I couldn't stand seeing him look at you like that."
"Protect me?" her voice rose, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Protecting me doesn't mean humiliating me in front of everyone! I can handle myself, Draco. I don't need you to fight my battles for me."
Silence hung heavy between them, the air thick with unresolved tension. Something sinister snapped in place inside of him.
His jaw clenched, his expression darkening as he struggled to control his temper. "I want one thing made perfectly clear, my love. If I see him again, I am going to paint the town red with his blood.." His voice trailed off, the frustration evident in his tone.
"Stop this obsessive nonsense, it's beneath you," Hermione said firmly.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face at the mention of his past, a flicker quickly masked by renewed anger. "Isn't it?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. "Because as much as you'd like to forget, Granger, the world doesn't work that way. I was a Death Eater. Some things stain you, leave a mark that can't be scrubbed clean."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the darkness that still clung to Draco, but it was quickly overshadowed by a surge of frustration.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to keep her composure. "That's not fair, Draco. This isn't about who we used to be."
His expression hardened even more, with one quick motion he pushed her to the closest wall. "Do you know what I did to him while you were at work?," he said in a low hiss next to her ears. "I beat him up while stupefied, made him kneel and made him promise he would never talk to you ever again. Obviously obliviated him after that. I really wish I havent." His lips touched hers. "You have no idea what I would do for you. Do you want to hear the tale of how I gutted Grayback while telling him how much I love it when you come undone under me, or perhaps it's a story for a different day?"
Hermione stood there, frozen in fear. Her rose-colored glasses shattered in that instant.
His love has no bounds. No challenges. He definitely wished he killed Ronald, to make his mother clean his blood up from the floor. Wished Greyback would hear how loud she moans his name and torture him to insanity with her voice echoing like a loop in his head.
"Do not think about yourself in a higher light, Granger. You are no saint either," Draco retorted, his voice cold and hard.
Her eyes widened, her heart pounding. "Draco, what are you saying?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"You heard me," he said, stepping closer, his eyes blazing. "You act like you're above it all, but you done fucked up things too. Polyjuice, time turner, Rita Skeeter's imprisonment, breaking into my family's vault and killing. Or Am I missing something?"
What a hypocrite. She killed his daddy dearest. With poison nonetheless. His words cut through like sharpened blaides, but it didn't hurt as much as it should have because he was absolutely correct.
Draco looked at her with hazy eyes, occluding to his highest ability. He sprung around and disappeared in a smoke cloud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She couldn't sleep for days after their argument. The guilt gnawed at her, leaving her restless and anxious. On the fifth day, Hermione decided she couldn't bear it any longer and went to visit their penthouse.
The sound of knuckles rapping against the ornately carved oak door startled Draco from his concentration. A stack of parchment fluttered to the floor, scattering contracts and ledgers like fallen leaves. He cursed under his breath, a touch too loudly, and then froze. Recognition dawned on his pale face, a flicker of something that might have been apprehension crossing his features.
"Come in," he called out, his voice rough and edged with a tension that mirrored her own.
The heavy door creaked open a sliver, revealing a hesitant Hermione. Her normally bushy hair was subdued in a loose braid, and the shadows beneath her eyes spoke of sleepless nights. He could almost hear the echo of their argument, the sting of his words, the weight of her silence.
"Draco," she began slowly, the word catching in her throat.
Malfoy looked up from his papers, his expression a stormy landscape. "Are you pregnant, Granger?" he asked bluntly, his voice dripping with a mockery that sent a shiver down her spine.
Hermione blinked, momentarily dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I asked you a question," he repeated, leaning back in his chair, a cruel amusement twisting his lips. "Are you having our child or not?"
The absurdity of it made her speechless for a heartbeat. "I'm not pregnant, no. Why on earth would you even—"
"Then what brings the Gryffindor Golden Girl scurrying to my humble abode?" Draco interrupted, his eyes narrowed to icy slits. "Surely not remorse for your self-righteous tirade? Or perhaps you need another lecture on the consequences of meddling?"
Shame burned hot in her chest, but she refused to back down. "It's not about that," she pressed, her voice gaining strength. "I came to apologize—" she started, but Draco cut her off.
"We don't have to live in the same house anymore," he said abruptly. "I spoke to the Ministry yesterday. You're free to go, Granger."
Hermione felt her heart drop. "What do you mean, free to go?"
Draco sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I've arranged everything. You don't have to stay here out of obligation. We only need to see each other once a month to maintain the bond. You're free to live your life as you see fit."
"Draco, that's not what I want," she said, her voice trembling. "I came here to apologize, to make things right between us."
"Why now?" Draco asked, his tone tinged with bitterness.
"Because I can't stand the thought of losing you, Draco," Hermione admitted, her eyes brimming with tears.
Draco looked at her, his gaze softening for a brief moment before hardening again like ice meeting fire. "I'm glad that the brightest witch of our age has come to her senses," he stated, his voice laced with bitter amusement. "Now you know exactly how I feel about you."
He reached for a quill, his hand hovering over the parchment for a beat too long before it dipped into the inkwell. The sound of scratching parchment filled the opulent silence of the study, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within them.
Hermione just stared at him, a statue sculpted from shock. His coldness, a stark contrast to the vulnerability she'd glimpsed for a fleeting moment, stole the breath from her lungs. Tears welled at the edges of her eyes, blurring the already strained image of Draco hunched over his paperwork.
Taking a shaky breath, she forced the words out, her voice barely a whisper above a sob. "Draco, I think you didn't hear me loud and clear. I am in love with you."
The quill stilled in his hand, a single ink droplet blooming on the pristine parchment. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers. The icy blue depths held a storm of emotions – disbelief, a flicker of something resembling hope, and a heavy dose of self-loathing.
"It will pass," he stated nonchalantly, his voice a mere rasp. He was looking away now, his eyes fixed on a distant corner of the room, refusing to meet her gaze.
Hermione felt her heart shatter into a million pieces, the sound echoing only in the hollowness of her chest. "You can't mean that," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Draco kept his eyes on the distant corner, a muscle in his jaw clenching and unclenching with suppressed emotion. "I'm a Malfoy," he finally said, his voice low and rough. "We're not meant for happy endings."
"That's a lie," Hermione said fiercely, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes. Stepping closer, she placed a hand on his clenched fist, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the coldness radiating from him.
"You don't get to decide that for us," she continued, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and love. "We can make our own destiny, Draco. Love isn't always sunshine and rainbows, but if we give it a chance…"
Draco finally looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "Destiny? Star-crossed lovers perhaps? Enemies to lovers? A happily ever after built on the ashes of a broken world. You read too many fiction romance books, Granger."
Draco stood from his seat and walked up to Hermione, taking her chin in his fingers. "A sad little sinner, that's what you are. I am a murderer, and that is the difference between us. I will never stop until everyone is out of our way. Just say the word, Granger, and I'll paint the town red."
Hermione felt a chill run down her spine at his words, but she refused to back down. "Draco, I know who you are… Please… just let go of me."
"I'm never letting you go, Granger. That is your other mistake. I am a dragon and true to my name I'm possessive of what is mine. You gave me your heart and soul, yes?"
She could only nod in fear.
"You were mine long before this game started. I have been in love with you for years now. You think I'd let you go?" He finally released her face.
"Draco, that is absolutely absurd. I am not your property."
"And who said I am not yours, Granger? You are the very core of my existence. Every part of my being is yours."
The air crackled with a tension that could have shattered glass. Hermione blinked away the tears blurring her vision, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a physical force.
"Draco," she finally managed, her voice trembling slightly, "Love isn't about possession. It's about…" She searched for the right words, the truth hanging heavy in the air. "It's about freedom. Freedom to choose, to grow, to be who you are, even if it's not what the other wants."
A flicker of something flickered across his face - defiance? Vulnerability? It came and went so quickly she couldn't be sure. "Freedom?" he scoffed, a bitter edge to his voice. "Do you think I had any say in who I loved during the war? Love was a luxury none of us could afford."
He took a step back, his gaze hardening. "But you, Granger, you had a choice. You chose the light, the side that condemned me. And yet, here you are, confessing your love to a killer."
The pain in his voice was undeniable, a raw vulnerability that sliced through her anger. "Draco," she whispered, her voice softer now, "you're not a monster. You're a man who made terrible choices, but…"
"But nothing, these are the choices I make every day" he snapped, his voice cutting through her like a knife. "The choices I made define me, Granger. They stain everything I touch, including you."
His eyes softened, his grip loosening. "I... I don't know how to do this, Granger. Just say the word, and I'll be on my knees for you."
"I want you to do what you feel needs to be done, I'm not going to survive if you leave me." she said, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
The air hung heavy with a strange intimacy. His vulnerability, a stark contrast to his usual mask, sent a jolt through Hermione. This wasn't the love story she'd envisioned, a knight in shining armor rescuing a damsel in distress. This was a tangled mess of emotions, a codependency fueled by fear and a twisted sense of belonging.
"Draco," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Love isn't about grand gestures or blind obedience. It's about understanding, even when it's terrifying."
A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying the turmoil within. "Understanding what, Granger?" He spat the name, a flicker of resentment returning to his eyes. "That I'm a monster, stained by the darkness I serve?"
"No," she countered, taking a step closer. "Understanding that everyone has darkness, Draco. It's the choices we make that define us."
He scoffed, a humorless sound escaping his lips. "Choices? You, who fought on the side of light, preaching about choices? You have no idea the burdens I carry."
His voice softened, a flicker of something like pain replacing the anger. "But you, Granger," he continued, his gaze searching hers, "you are the light in this suffocating darkness. Even if it destroys me, I won't let them extinguish it."
The weight of his words settled on her like a physical burden. Was she truly his light, or was she being consumed by the very darkness she sought to dispel?
"There has to be another way, Draco," she pleaded, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. "A way to fight the darkness without becoming it."
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken emotions and the weight of their impossible situation. Finally, Draco spoke, his voice a low rumble.
"There may be," he conceded, his eyes hardening with resolve. "But it will require a sacrifice. A gamble on a future neither of us are sure exists."
A knot of dread formed in her stomach. This wasn't a love story with a happily ever after waiting at the end. This was a dance with a monster, a desperate attempt to find redemption in the face of an uncertain future.
"What do I need to do?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Is this what Stockholm syndrome feels like? But this emotion was not a syndrome or a state.
This was pure love. Doesn't matter the cost.
He pulled her into a fierce kiss, pouring all his passion and desperation into it. A shiver ran down her spine despite the lingering heat of his kiss. His words were a stark contrast to the tenderness of the moment, a chilling reminder of the darkness that clung to him.
"Draco, what does that even mean?"
He cupped her face in his hands, his touch surprisingly gentle. "There are things I need to take care of, loose ends," he murmured, his eyes filled with a haunted glint. "Things that would only worry you, things that stain even the strongest magic."
"But I don't want to be left in the dark, Draco," she pleaded, a flicker of defiance sparking in her chest. "Whatever you're planning, I want to understand."
A muscle clenched in his jaw, the familiar mask of indifference threatening to return.
"There's no time to understand, Granger," he snapped, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "Just trust me. For once, trust that I'm doing this for you."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. Trust. It was a word they'd thrown around carelessly in the throes of their passionate confessions, but the reality of it felt like a fragile seed struggling to take root in barren soil.
"How long will you be gone?" she asked, her voice small.
"A few days," he replied, his gaze softening slightly. "Plan a "girls' weekend with Ginerva. Clear your head, reconnect with your past. By the time you return, everything will be… different."
His use of the word "different" sent another tremor through her. Different could mean a lot of things, some good, some terrifying. But for now, she had little choice but to accept his cryptic words.
"Alright," she whispered, a knot of dread forming in her stomach. "I'll go. But Draco, please promise me one thing."
He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity breaking through his stoic mask. "What's that, Granger?"
"Promise me you'll be careful," she pleaded, her voice thick with emotion. "Promise me you'll come back to me."
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, a slow, ghost of a smile played on his lips. "Always," he murmured, the word laced with a hidden meaning she couldn't quite decipher.
With a final lingering kiss, a kiss that tasted of desperation and unspoken promises, Draco released her. The weight of his absence settled upon her like a suffocating cloak as he turned and strode purposefully from the room.
Hermione stood alone, the silence of the opulent study pressing down on her. A trip to see Ginny. A few days to clear her head. It sounded simple enough. But a chilling premonition gnawed at her. This "girls' weekend" felt more like a goodbye than a respite. And the future that awaited her return, the "different" Draco promised, was shrouded in a darkness that sent shivers down her spine.
She nodded slowly. "Okay," she said, though a knot of dread twisted in her stomach. She knew that something irreversible would happen, that someone would die. Which one of them, that was the question.
And maybe, this will be true to her name, and it's going to be "The Winter's Tale".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione is such a weird name to give to your child. Naming it after a fucked-up play, Ginny had once said, laughing lightly. Hermione forced a smile, but inside, her mind began to whirl.
A fucked-up play. Yes indeed, a tangled story, filled with jealousy, betrayal, and heartbreak. Her parents had often told her they chose the name because it symbolized strength, wisdom, and resilience. They saw in Hermione a character who, despite the chaos around her, maintained her dignity and integrity. But sometimes, she wondered if they ever considered the weight of the name they had bestowed upon her.
Did they think about how it would feel to carry the legacy of a character who endured so much suffering? How every time she introduced herself, she'd be reminded of the frailties and fallibilities of human nature? How would it serve as a constant reminder of her own trials and tribulations?
And here she was, Hermione Granger-Malfoy, living a life that often felt like a twisted play itself. From the battles of Hogwarts to the complex dynamics of her marriage with Draco, her existence seemed a continuous test of her resilience and strength. How fitting that her name would reflect the chaos and challenges she faced.
Yet, despite the turmoil, she had managed to find moments of happiness, of peace. She had friends who loved her, a husband who, despite his flaws and their tumultuous relationship, cared for her deeply. And she had herself - her own sense of identity and purpose, forged through fire and adversity.
Maybe her parents were right, she thought, a small smile touching her lips. Maybe the name Hermione, with all its complicated connotations, was exactly what she needed. It reminded her that she was not defined by her struggles, but by how she overcame them. That amidst the mess and the chaos, there was strength, wisdom, and an unyielding spirit.
With that thought, Hermione felt a renewed sense of resolve. She turned her attention back to Ginny, grateful for the laughter and the lightness of their conversation, ready to face whatever came next with the resilience her name had always promised.
As the night wore on, the conversation inevitably turned to their husbands. Ginny, nestled on the floor with a plate of pastries balanced precariously on her lap, sighed dramatically.
"How long will our husbands be on this so-called business trip anyway?" she grumbled, picking at a flaky croissant. "Blaise has been gone for a fortnight already, and all I've gotten are cryptic owl messages about 'negotiations' and 'unforeseen delays.'"
Hermione swirled the remains of her tea in her cup, a frown creasing her forehead. "Draco said a few days," she replied, the memory of his intense gaze and chilling words sending a shiver down her spine.
Hermione nodded. "It's strange. I never thought I'd miss him this much. We've had our ups and downs, but... it feels different now. More real, I am so hopelessly in love with him."
Oh Ginerva, I wish you knew. We're dancing with the devil.
Ginny leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I guess that's what love does. It sneaks up on you and makes you realize how much someone means to you, even when you least expect it."
"True," Hermione agreed, her thoughts drifting to Draco. "It's not just about the big moments, you know? It's the little things – the way he makes me laugh, the way he holds before sleep. It's all those tiny details that make me miss him."
Ginny nodded, her eyes softening. "Yeah, it's those moments that matter the most. The little things that add up to something beautiful, Blaise is an absolute gentleman and a good fuck, also treats me like I'm the center of the universe."
And a murderer, assassin, ex-Death Eater, but who said he's not a gentleman?
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, before Ginny spoke again. "So, what do you want to do while they're away? Any plans?"
Hermione shrugged. "Not really. Just catching up on some reading, maybe a bit of work. But I'm open to suggestions."
Ginny grinned. "How about we binge-watch some Muggle movies? I've got a list of classics I need to see."
She laughed, the sound light and carefree. "That sounds perfect."
As they settled into their evening, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. They were halfway through "Dead Poets Society" when all of a sudden Harry's patronus flew across the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"GINNY, RON'S HOUSE IS ON FIENDFYRE. GET HERE AS SOON AS YOU CAN."
The room plunged into a chilling silence. The playful atmosphere evaporated, replaced by a suffocating wave of terror. Ginny's face drained of color, her eyes wide with disbelief. Hermione felt a primal surge of fear course through her.
Ron, her ex boyfriend, her best friend, his home engulfed in cursed flames?
Ginny lunged for her wand lying on the coffee table, her voice taut with urgency. "Fiendfyre? But that's… that's dark magic, unforgivable! Who would do such a thing?"
Her mind was already racing. They needed to act quickly.
"We don't know," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "But we need to get to Ron as soon as possible. Grab everything – Floo powder, emergency potions, anything that might be helpful."
Their movements were a blur of frantic energy. Ginny, her face etched with worry, stuffed essentials into a well-worn pouch. Hermione, her heart hammering in her chest, checked her wand for any malfunction.
The weight of his secrets, the anxieties gnawing at her, were pushed aside for the moment. All that mattered now was getting to Ron and helping in any way she could. As Ginny threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, a silent plea echoed in her mind. Please let them be alright. Please let us get there in time.
With a shared look of grim determination, they stepped into the emerald flames, the house and the unknown dangers that awaited them swallowing them whole.
A sickeningly familiar sensation of twisting and turning filled Hermione as they Apparated.
When her stomach settled, she opened her eyes to a scene of utter devastation. Ron and Lavender's house, a quaint cottage she'd visited on numerous occasions, was a raging inferno.
Towering flames licked at the night sky, casting an eerie orange glow on their surroundings. The once cheerful paint peeled and blistered, the windows mere black voids spewing out thick, acrid smoke. The heat blasted them like a furnace, sending a wave of nausea washing over Hermione.
Ginny, beside her, stood frozen, her face a mask of pure horror. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "This can't be happening."
The sound of panicked screams cut through the night.
Hermione grabbed her arm. "We need to find them and get them out. Let's go."
With determination, they ran toward the house, the flickering flames casting eerie shadows on their faces. They could hear the distant shouts of Ron and Lavender, the panic and fear evident in their voices.
"Stay close to me," Hermione shouted over the roar of the fire, holding her wand tightly.
Ginny nodded, tears streaming down her face but a fierce resolve in her eyes. Together, they plunged into the chaos, ready to do whatever it took to save Ron and Lavender.
As they moved closer to the house, they saw Ron and Lavender struggling near the entrance, trying to get through the smoke and flames. Just then, Harry appeared with more aurors to the scene, his face determined as he used his skills as an Auror to combat the fire and create a path.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted, relief washing over her.
Harry turned, his eyes filled with urgency. "I need your help! We have to get them out now!"
They worked together, Hermione and Ginny casting water spells to hold back the flames while Harry created a shield around Ron and Lavender. For a moment, it seemed like they might succeed.
But then a terrifying crack echoed through the night as the roof of the house began to collapse. Flames surged, cutting off their path to the entrance.
"NO" Ginny screamed, trying to run forward, but Hermione held her back.
"We can't get to them," Hermione said, her voice breaking. "It's too dangerous."
Harry looked back at them, anguish in his eyes. "I won't leave them," he shouted, casting another spell to push the flames back.
The scene unfolded in a horrifying slow-motion. Through the inferno, Hermione saw a flash of red hair and green eyes– Ron and Lavender, their faces a mix of terror and a desperate hope that flickered as quickly as it appeared. Ron's lips moved, forming a silent plea, his eyes locked on Ginny. Then, just as abruptly, the flames consumed them entirely.
"NO!" Harry's anguished roar echoed through the night, a primal scream that mirrored the hollowness that erupted in her own chest. He lunged forward, his body straining against the invisible barrier of his protective shield, but it was futile. The house, ravaged by the relentless fire, groaned once more before succumbing to its fate. With a deafening crash, the roof caved in, burying Ron and Lavender beneath a mountain of burning debris.
Ginny, her face contorted in a silent scream, crumpled to her knees. A high-pitched wail tore from her throat, a sound so raw and filled with despair that it ripped at the very fabric of her being. Tears streamed down her own face, blurring her vision as she enveloped Ginny in a desperate hug, the only comfort she could offer in the face of such unimaginable loss.
Harry stumbled back, his face etched with a grief so profound it threatened to consume him. His eyes, usually filled with a steely determination, were vacant, reflecting the ashes of their hope. The shield around them flickered and died, the battle lost before it even truly began. In the silence that followed the inferno's roar, the weight of their devastating loss settled upon them, a suffocating cloak that promised a future forever stained by this horrific night.
The flames danced a macabre victory dance, their orange glow illuminating a scene of utter devastation. The house, once a symbol of warmth and laughter, was now a smoldering skeleton, a stark reminder of the cruel hand of fate.
The air, thick with the acrid stench of smoke and burnt wood, hung heavy in the stillness that followed the inferno's roar.
Time seemed to lose all meaning. Minutes stretched into hours, each tick of a nonexistent clock echoing the hollowness in their hearts. Harry, his face etched with a grief that mirrored the lines etched into the ancient battlefield before them, stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the smoldering ruins.
Ginny, the fire of her life extinguished, remained huddled in her embrace, her sobs the only sound that dared to pierce the suffocating silence.
Hermione held her tighter, the unspoken words of comfort a paltry offering in the face of such immense loss. The image of Ron and Lavender, their faces filled with a desperate hope consumed by the inferno, replayed on a loop in her mind.
A single tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down her cheek, a silent tribute to the friends, the lovers, stolen away in the blink of an eye.
As the first rays of dawn began to paint the horizon with streaks of pale pink and orange, casting an ethereal glow on the scene of destruction, a new kind of silence descended. The silence of acceptance, of a horrifying truth settling in their gut like a lead weight. Ron and Lavender were gone.
Gently, she helped Ginny to her feet, the young woman's body trembling with the aftershocks of her grief. Together, with Harry leading the way, they cautiously approached the ruins, their hearts heavy with the weight of their loss, but their bodies fueled by a desperate need to bring their friends home.
The weight of Ginny's grief pressed heavily against Hermione, a tangible force mirroring the hollowness in her own chest. "I know, Gin," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "I know."
Harry sank down beside them, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "There had to be something I could've done," he muttered, his voice raw with self-recrimination. "I should have…"
But the sentence died on his lips, replaced by a heavy sigh. There were no answers, no solace in "should haves." Only the cold, brutal reality that Ron and Lavender were gone.
As dawn painted the sky with streaks of rose and gold, a cruel reflection of the devastation below, a new understanding settled on Hermione.
Standing there, next to the ashes of what used to be Ron and Lavender's home, Hermione felt the weight of his words more deeply than ever before. The devastation before her was a chilling testament to the lengths he would go to protect her, to avenge any perceived wrong against her. The flames that had consumed everything in their path were a stark reminder of the power he wielded, both as a man in love and as a formidable force.
As she looked around at the wreckage, a shiver ran down her spine. Draco had indeed painted the town red, not just with fire and destruction, but with the lives of those who stood in his way. The horror of the scene was a promise fulfilled—a grim reminder of the darkness that had always lurked within him, a darkness that she had both feared and been drawn to.
Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to reconcile the man she loved with the devastation he had caused. She knew his actions were driven by love, but the cost had been too high. Ron and Lavender, innocent in all of this, were now gone, victims of a conflict they never asked to be part of.
In her heart, Hermione knew she had to stop Draco. She couldn't let more lives be lost in the name of love, no matter how fiercely he felt it. As she turned away from the destruction, determination set in. She had to find a way to end this madness, to save Draco from himself, before it was too late.