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Shattered Glass	By : thewolflover Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 6212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I am making no money by writing this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter One: On the run
(Author's note I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.)

At first, it was scary, she fought and screamed like a child for her mother. Then as she realized exactly what was happening to her, it wasn't so bad. Aside from the salt water burning her lungs and eyes and the feeling of suffocation, the feeling was quite nice, she was losing feeling and was no longer cold, it felt as if she were being wrapped in a warm blanket. Slowly, so slowly, her body rocked with the waves, moving as one with nature, and slowly the world began to disappear, in funny shapes and drowned out voices that sounded fuzzy, it was comforting in a strange way. For that she was grateful, Outside of her watery tomb the world wasn't quite so peaceful. War, the worst thing a man could do to another, was raging, just feet above her head, or was it miles now? In any case, Hermione was dying, and so far it wasn't nearly what she had expected. It was pleasant, almost like falling into a slumber, one she knew she would never wake from.

After thirty seconds she exhaled, and watched lazily as the bubbles floated away from her, up they went like little hot air balloons without the baskets. Just as the first minute passed, she began to think about how she, herself had ended up in such a situation, and what would happen when she was gone. Who would miss her? Who would weep over the loss of one such as herself? Who would have thought that Hermione of all people, would be reduced to this manor of end? Smartest which to attend Hogwarts indeed. It took two minutes for Hermione to start feeling nostalgic about her life and how she managed to end up in her present situation, and her very short, but very full life. After three, things began to go dark. Oddly enough however, she found herself sort of laughing inwardly; of course she had heard stories about the stereo-typical life and death situations, but never in her life did she actually expect to see all of her life flash before her.

As she watched her life go by, things started to feel real again, like she was re-experiencing it all. Hermione remembered her first Christmas, and how her parents had gotten her books, and a few items of clothes. She remembered how she disliked those books at first because all she wanted was Polly pocket. Oh how funny it would be that all she would ever ask for from that year on for every Holiday, would be books, books, and more books. Hermione remembered the day she got her letter from Hogwarts, how proud her parents had been, but also how confused, and uncertain they were. She remembered the first time she would meet Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter, and how from that day on her life could never be considered normal. Oh how she missed those days. Mountain trolls and hippogriphs. Then things began to speed up, she flew through her second, third fourth and fifth years of Hogwarts; then came to a bit of a stammering halt halfway through her sixth year, when things started to change, and life as Hermione came to know it would never return to the way it was. As she was remembering reliving and rethinking, there was a sudden pain in her heart then things began to go fuzzy, and she began to get very tired. Over head there was screaming, �HERMIONE! HERMIONE WHERE ARE YOU?� She smiled. 'Time to go.' she thought. Then there was nothing.
***

It was about three months ago that he had to run. Over the past year his father began to become more and more deranged. Somewhere he hoped and in the English country side, somewhere the golden trio were alive and making progress. They were his only hope for survival now. The past year to say the least had been very... hectic for him. His opinions and life had changed so drastically that he hardly even realized he was himself anymore. Had he seen himself six months ago he would have been struck speechless; gone were his expensive clothes, gone was his meticulously kept hair, and gone was the smug smirk that usually inhabited his perfect pointed features. He was dirty, unkempt and scared. Draco was nowhere near the man he used to be, if he could even be called a man.

It was four months ago when his mother quietly came into his room, silently sobbing. It had been happening from what he could gather, all of his life; Narcissa, Draco's mother was breaking under Lucius, his father's insanity. She supported her husband whole heartedly at first, then as his plans grew more and more dangerous her faith began to falter. Then his plans worked, and The Dark Lord made his triumphant return. Narcissa never knew all the details, but she once again supported him. Until just the year previous, when Lucius agreed to have their son be the one to kill Dumbledore. It was then that his mother decided that his lust for power had gone too far. She managed to save Draco, because of an unbreakable vow that she somehow got Severus Snape to agree to.

Draco did not know what to do when his mother came into his room at three o'clock in the morning. He was going to be cross with his mother, until he saw the tears on her pale cheeks. No matter how bad things were his mother never allowed him to see her cry. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she had not slept in a few days. She spoke in whispers as she told him her plan of escaping his father. None of it made any sense. Draco was, puzzled at first, angry even; after some explaining he understood why his mother wanted him to escape. Voldemort, as expected saw everyone as an expendable resource. Draco was next on the line to be used. He was to go the the ministry and murder the minister, and he was to be alone. The plan was not be in motion for several months so in hurried whispers and frantic tones she told him what he must do, fake his own suicide, and in the midst of the confusion go to Grindgotts and get as much money as he could. It was a rough and obviously rush of a plan so Draco spent three or so weeks figuring out his plan, perfecting it. It needed to be flawless in order for him to escape, alive. Voldemort didn't take lightly to betrayal. He needed them to believe he was dead or he would be sought out like a criminal. And a criminal he was.

It was a ripe Sunday morning the Draco went to Grindgots, the dew drenched the grass, and the autumn leaves were beginning to fall. No one saw problem with him going, Draco still had much freedom and they trusted him fully, part of him felt very guilty stealing money from his father. He idolized his father, and wished deeply to be him someday, but it did not appear that his father cared for him back. Though Draco was his son, Lucius had taken up the opinion of Voldemort, people were expendable, even if they were your child. He took most of what he could fit in his bag, which was quite a bit, enough for a family of ten to live for three years or so, and that wasn't even a third of it. Then as insurance he paid off the goblin who showed him to his safe. Draco waited a few days, and then he ran, transfiguring a chair to look like his dead lifeless body, and blew out the south corner of his house to look like he did it in the process of killing himself. The week right before his faked death, he had been acting right depressed, and upset, as to further the idea that he indeed killed himself.

He placed his wand in his �lifeless� hand and ran as fast as he could to his fire place, grabbing a handful of floo powder. If his plan worked right, he would have to run a mile to his muggle neighbors house and floo to Diagon Alley. They were vacationing this week so he would be clear of them seeing him. He could still remember his two bags clanking at his sides. The one on his left full of a large amount of his family�s money, and the one on his right full of clothes, and a tent for him to sleep in. He ran and did not bother to look back. It was only his death he'd see.

To his luck his plan went smoothly, and he appeared in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron; it was early so no one would be there to see him. The bar man lived above the bar so he, for some reason kept his wand in the compartment under the bar taps Draco climbed quickly over the bar and pulled very slowly the compartment open. In it was a pale brown wand, possibly oak, he grasped it and rushed back over the bar into the alley behind the grimy place. He tapped the brick that would allow him entry and ran back inside placing the wand the way it was and closing it quietly. Draco then as fast as he could made his way through the temporary opening into Diagon Alley, which looked much more different than he remembered the first time he went there. Shops were closed and windows were broken. The only shops that seemed to be open were the ones that students needed for Hogwarts and that Weasley brother's store. A sad sight indeed.

However that was not the one he needed. He walked through the empty streets, nothing would be open for a very long time, or a few hours at least. Though he knew that the shop keeper would not be there he knew his merchandise would be. Oliveanders, he needed a new wand, one that was not know to the ministry as to not be tracked. The simplest solution to this would be a new one; as his wand was with his �body�. His footsteps echoed slightly as he cautiously made his way toward the closed off shop, looking all around him as he went. He reached the shop without any problems. It was a sad sight to be seen the windows had been shattered and boarded up, the wand maker was gone.

Draco wrenched one of the boards off the building, wincing at the sound, and gazed in for a second. It had been a long while since he had been without his wand; he felt very vulnerable, and scared, feelings that he was not used to. If someone were to come after him at that moment, he would be finished, with no defenses. And with that thought he took a quick look behind him and crawled into the window. Glass cracked beneath his feet. It was dark, but was lit slightly by the pale morning sunlight that was streaming through the window he ripped open. It took him five or four times trying wands until he grabbed one that felt warm, and comforting like his first one had. He slipped it into his pocket and stepped out into the alley way. He pulled his cloak closer to him and walked briskly in the direction of the country side. It was going to be getting cold soon.

And now he was deep in the wilderness, not a soul in the world knew where he was or that he was even alive he was sure. His owl Charlie, whom he was forced to cage had flown to him unexpectedly three days after he had escaped, with the Daily Profit on which was a picture of himself dressed in his best suit laying in what could only be a coffin. The headline read, �Malfoy Cracks, Commits an Irreversible Act� They had become less creative with their headlines these days. He was expecting something witty, a play on words. It was probably his father who demanded such a bland headline.

Draco mumbled under his breath, �Stupid bird.� his bird was annoying him lately she was very peeved with him for not letting her fly around, which he could understand, he himself were starting to feel cooped up. �I can't.� He'd tell her over and over again. �You're going to get me caught. I can't have come all this way only to get caught by someone, think about what would happen to my mother.� He would hiss at her. Stupid bird, she shouldn't have come, though he was glad she did. He would have gone insane without her there, well faster anyway.

Over his months in solitude, he had come to realize a few things, reluctantly. One, he could not hate anyone working against Voldemort, not anymore. For they were his only hope to live normally again, and not out of some stinking tent, as extravagant as it was. Two, he very much wanted to help those three annoying know it all's, as much as he did not want to admit it. Sitting and waiting was killing him, he didn't know what was happening, and didn't have a thing to do. Three, his hatred that seemed to be bread into him was mostly gone, he didn't hate mudbloods anymore, because at this moment in time he was as good as one. That irked him for weeks. He didn't much like being grouped into a bunch of people he loathed. But now, with no one to keep him company, and no one to fuel his hatred, it all but died away. For the moment anyway. There was no telling when that would change, or it would at all.

Draco was pulled out of his thoughts, by a screech from his bored owl. He turned to her his blond hair sweeping in front of his icy blue eyes, he didn't care much for fixing it anymore. �Charlie, shut it!� He almost yelled at the feathered animal. He couldn't, if he was right, Voldemort had sent someone else to do what he was meant to, and in turn the ministry must have now been taken over, and in all likelihood they were searching through all the owls. So he had to be careful, and being careful meant making his owl very angry with him, then it had to be that way. �I'm sorry Char, I juts can't risk it.� The owl hooted dismayed, and fluffed out her feather's. �I'm sorry.� he repeated. And with that the Owl quieted down.

He sighed, Draco needed to find something to occupy his time. But what? His owl hooted again, as if to check to see if he had changed his mind. Draco's expression went sour. He was thankful to have something living with him, but boy did he wish that animal dead sometimes. �Alright!� He screamed. �You can go, but if you bring anybody unwanted anywhere near hear, I will wring your neck so fast you won't be able to say 'Hooo'.� He ripped open the door of her metal cage. �Bloody Git.� He hissed. The owl looked at him uncertainly. �Go, before I change my mind, sneak me a Daily profit if you will, and don't get caught.� He stated flatly. Charlie flow out of her cage with visible glee, happy to stretch her wings.

�HELP!� he herd a voice scream suddenly. Startled he looked around trying to find who had screamed it. He would have started to pack his things frantically, if he didn't have countless amounts of charms around him, and his tent, he was invisible. His ice blue eyes widened in shock, streaking through the tree's was a girl, and not to far behind her was a pack of what must have been five death eaters.

�COME BACK YOU FILTHY ANIMAL!� came a familiar voice, it was his father.
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Shattered Glass