Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Victim of the Fall	By : PrettyDesdemona Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 32726 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe or any of its characters. I do not make any money off this story. Only love!

Chapter List
- 14
- 15
- 16
CHAPTER 15

ADAMA & EVE

“You rhapsodize about beauty, my eyes glaze. Everything I love is ugly; I mean really, you would be amazed.”

Hermione threw open the balcony door, a cold gust of air billowing into her living room.

“Harry, what are you doing here!?” she cried, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

“Hey Hermione!” he drew her into a one armed hug as he stepped into her flat. “I thought they’d never leave. It’s fucking freezing out there.”

Hermione’s stomach churned uncomfortably. He was so familiar, his face, his smell, the way he dressed. He was making her ache. He felt like someone she’d known in a previous life. She gaped unattractively as he slumped down on her couch.

“Harry, you can’t apparate in Diagon Alley.” she said faintly because she couldn’t think of a way to articulate her emotions at that moment. She wanted to throw herself at him, whether to beat him or cry on his shoulder she didn’t know.

Harry scoffed derisively and said, “I’m Harry Potter.” as if that were explanation enough.

Hermione balked. She knew deep down that he’d been able to get away with almost anything at Hogwarts because of his status as the Boy Who Lived, but she didn’t think he’d ever knowingly use it like that. Unless there was an emergency.

“Harry,” she said frantically, “What’s happened? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he replied lazily.

She frowned, “I just thought maybe there was something wrong…”

“Do I need a reason to come and see my best friend?”

Hermione felt irritated at that. “But… You haven’t spoken to me in over a month.”

Harry had the good grace to look marginally guilty. “Yeah, I know… Things haven’t been great. But I’m here now, right?”

“I guess… How did you know where I live?” she asked.

“Ron told me. Before he left.” said Harry indifferently.

“What do you mean before he left? Where has he gone?” Hermione asked, thrown. How could he be so casual? He spoke about Ron as if he were just some distant acquaintance, as if his wellbeing and his actions had no effect on Hermione whatsoever.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, didn’t say. Just packed his shit and left. He’s come back once or twice but… Why? Didn’t Ginny tell you?”

“She… she knew?” Hermione was hurt that Ginny would keep this information from her, but knew she would never tell the younger girl that Harry had been here, if only to save Ginny more pain. She was hurt, but she understood. She was struck for a moment that in this scenario, Ginny was being a better friend to her than Harry was.

Hermione felt overwhelmed. Ron had left, without saying anything; Ginny had known and hadn’t said anything either. And if Ron had been in Diagon Alley two weeks ago that George probably knew as well. She didn’t know whether to be hurt or indifferent. A voice in her ear told her that it probably wasn’t any of her business what Ron did anymore. After all, she hadn’t told him where she was living. But what about Harry? If Ginny and Ron had both gone then… “I’m confused. So, you’re alone at the Burrow now? And have been for the past three weeks?” she asked.

“Yeah, besides Mr and Mrs Weasley but they don’t get in my way much.” Hermione raised her eyebrows in question and he shrugged, looking away from her, “I like being alone. It’s easier that way. That’s why I asked Ginny to leave.”

Hermione was completely thrown by this. She knew Ginny had been living at Hogwarts but had guessed that she’d left by her own choosing as Hermione had. “You asked her?! Harry, she loves you!” Hermione spluttered. No wonder Ginny was so down then.

He waved his hand dismissively. “She was getting too clingy.”

Hermione was struck suddenly by how unfamiliar this manifestation of Harry was. He was still him, but there was something else, she hadn’t seen him so calm in a long time. The Harry of the Burrow was either maniacally happy or seemed on the brink of suicide. This Harry was just coldly indifferent, arrogant and lazy. She felt as if she barely knew him. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why are you here, really?”

He smiled at her fondly, a look he reserved for when she was being too smart for her own good. “I’ve got something to ask you.” he said. He leant forward, his expression indulgent, as if she were a naughty child who’d stolen sweets from the pantry, “Are you fucking Blaise Zabini?”

Her mind did a double take. Hermione stared at him for a moment, her mouth hanging open. “Excuse me?” she hissed. Of all the impertinent, inappropriate questions…

“I said are you fucking Blaise Zabini?” he repeated nonchalantly.

Hermione’s fists clenched, she was still holding her wand and she noticed dimly that blue sparks were shooting out the end. She hadn’t spoken to Harry in five weeks, and now he thought he could show up at her house in the middle of the night, put his boots on her table and ask disrespectful questions about her sex life?

“Get. Out.” she snarled.

Harry laughed indulgently, patronisingly, as if her reaction was completely over the top. He stood up and walked towards her bedroom door with his eyebrows raised playfully. “What? Is he here now?”

“Harry Potter I swear to god if you do not get the fuck out of my home right now, I will cause you pain unlike you’ve ever felt.” Her wand lifted to point at him threateningly.

“You’re good, Hermione, but you’re not that good. So I guess that’s a yes then?” he said apathetically.

“No, it’s a refusal to answer your disgusting and insulting question. It is none of your business who I do or do not sleep with!” she growled. “HHHooHow dare you! I haven’t seen you in three weeks, you haven’t spoken to me in five and you think you can just show up here and ask me something like that?! What is wrong with you?!”

“Ron saw you, Hermione. He was here visiting George and he saw you eating breakfast with the guy. In your pyjamas. That really cut him up… Pretty low, Hermione, even for you.”

His words lashed at her like a whip and hurt more than she could ever explain. She might not have slept with Blaise, but she had hooked up with George, which in her mind, was far worse. “What do you want from me, Harry?” she whispered, the evil snarl gone from her voice. “You want me to hate myself? I’m already two steps ahead of you.”

“You shouldn’t have left.” he said in a voice that sounded far more childlike than usual. His demeanour began to change. He wasn’t standing arrogant and proud anymore, he looked weak and naive. But Hermione was not about to let him manipulate her.

“He could have written to me!” she cried manically, “You both could have! You could have come and seen me if you missed me that much! No one tried to stop me leaving, no one gave a shit! What was I supposed to do?!” Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes, feeling like all the good work she’d done since she arrived back at school was a waste and her guilt rose like a phoenix from the ashes. What was the tovarasi to her apart from a bunch of maladjusted teenagers who brought more drama to her life? What was the point in trying with them, when she’d abandoned her original tovarasi? Two people she’d promised to remain loyal to above all others?

“Do you love me Hermione?” Harry asked suddenly in that same childlike voice.

She nodded fervently, wanting to assuage some of the damage she’d already caused.

“Then let’s get out of England.” he said feverishly. “Let’s just leave!”

“What?” she looked at him as if he were speaking another language.

He walked towards her, arms outstretched pleadingly. “It’s fucked here. There’s nothing for us now that Voldemort’s gone. Let’s just leave. We’ll find… something else.”

Something else? Hermione didn’t like the implications behind that. He sounded fanatical, scary.

She laughed nervously, “Harry, I can’t. I can’t just leave… There’s still so much to clean up here.”

Harry looked sad for a fraction of a second before his face crumpled into a snarl. His fist lashed out and smacked into her wall. “Why is it our job to clean it up?! Leave it to the grownups Hermione! None of it matters anymore!” he shouted.

Hermione didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have the experience dealing with Harry’s rages like Ginny did.

“Harry… Let’s just talk. Alright? I haven’t seen you in ages… You said yourself things aren’t going well, talk to me. Come and sit down.” she was flailing.

He seemed to deflate; she could see tears shining in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk!” he said in a pained, pleading voice.

She had no idea what to say to him. What would Teodora do?

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re feeling, Harry?” she said, trying to sound kind and caring.

“I am feeling like I want to be with my best friend! I want to get out of this country! Away from these people!” he said through gritted teeth.

Hermione paced in front of him. “Ok… Ok so you’re feeling… Lost?”

“What the fuck, Hermione! If I wanted a fucking therapist I wouldn’t come to you!”

Hermione recoiled as if she’d been slapped. She realised she couldn’t help him this time. She didn’t know why he’d come to her but she was no use to him. She couldn’t handle him. She could feel all her old wounds coming unstitched. Her hands were beginning to shake and her throat was convulsing. She’d gone almost two weeks without having a full blown panic attack and his presence, his behaviour, was bringing one on. She could see it approaching like a storm on the horizon.

“Harry, I’m sorry you’re having such a hard time but I… I think you should go. I’m sorry.” she said shakily. She hated herself with every word. He was breaking down in front of her eyes and all she could do was offer him an apology and tell him to leave. She was an awful friend, a horrible human being.

But underneath that she felt suspicious and her intuition told her that there was something happening inside Harry that she should not be around to witness. She wasn’t his mother. She had to protect herself.

He looked up at her suddenly. “I want you to come with me.” he growled in a demanding, childish voice that told her he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“But I can’t Harry.” she said in a small voice, internally begging him to just go.

He threw his hands up in the air, letting out a high, maniacal laugh.

She began to back away. A sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her vision began to blur at the edges. He looked manic, unpredictable and Hermione wondered if she was indeed having a panic attack, or if she was quite simply frightened. There was something wrong here, something wrong with her friend. She was afraid he would hurt her.

Hermione realised in the back of her mind, that he wasn’t going to leave.

She pointed her wand at the floor and whispered, “Auxilium.”

Warmth began to seep into her feet.

“What did you say?” said Harry, a slightly manic look in his eyes.

“Nothing.” said Hermione quickly. The warmth spread through her legs and up her torso.

“I heard you. You whispered something. What did you say?!” his voice rose in pitch. He stepped towards her, arms outstretched. A foot from Hermione, his hands made contact with something that looked like glass. She could see the pads of his fingers pressed up against it. His eyes glazed for a moment.

“I have to go.” he said distractedly and, without a backward glance, walked through her balcony door.

The crack of his disapparation echoed through Diagon Alley and Hermione closed the door, shaking from head to foot.

It had worked.

She sunk down onto her Persian rug and pressed her palms onto the floor, her fingers splayed.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

Hermione awoke the next morning after a restless night’s sleep. Despite the shield charm she had cast on her bedroom door before she went to sleep, she still felt frightened after Harry left. Not that the charm would have stopped him had he really wanted to get in. She kept dreaming that he was standing over her bed, watching her sleep.

She felt an old guilt festering inside her. Harry had needed her and she’d pushed him out. What if she’d over-reacted? Of course he’d seemed scary the night before, but this was Harry. What if he really had come to her in an hour of need and she’d turned him away? He’d been her best friend for seven years, someone she’d spent almost over single day of her teenage life with. Didn’t she trust him? Though, she’d felt in her gut that she should be frightened of him, but then again, when had her gut ever been spot on lately?

Hermione was sick of second guessing herself. Every decision she made seemed right at the time but later on, revealed itself as a mistake. She wanted to feel, for once, that she’d made a good choice.

She spent most of the day lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and sleeping intermittently. She didn’t read, or eat. She was better off staying right where she was. She wouldn’t be able to make anymore bad decisions from her bed.

Over the course of the day, her lethargy slowly sunk in to depression.

She was overcome. That was it. She was throwing her hands in the air and admitting defeat. She wouldn’t deal with it anymore. Harry had punched the wall last night and told her to leave the clean up to the adults. Well, that’s what she’d do. She could live in this flat for the rest of her life, work full time in the bookshop and bury herself in books and parchment. She wasn’t going to do anything anymore. She’d had her chance to do things in the war and now all her productivity was used up. What use was a war hero in peace time? She was obsolete and broken.

Hermione felt her consciousness burying itself deep down in her mind, behind a wall of atrophy. She wasn’t going to cry into her pillows or wallow, she was just going to give over the part of herself that cared. Her life could rain on her all it liked; she wasn’t going to participate anymore. She would decorate this little hole her consciousness had dug for itself in the unfathomable depths of her mind like a tomb. Her personality, her hopes and dreams, her love and care could all go down there and die.

Hermione had been kicking herself in the teeth for too long. She’d tried to fly but her wings had been unceremoniously clipped and denied. Good riddance. She didn’t need them anyway.

At seven o’clock that night there was a knock on her door. Blaise with her Rusine potion. Hermione rolled to the edge of the bed so she could see it through the bedroom doorway.

“Just leave it on the landing!” she yelled. There was no way she was going to see anyone today. She didn’t have the energy to pretend like she was ok.

She rolled back and pulled the covers up over her head, curling into herself. She’d get up and get the potion in a moment, when she was sure Blaise had left. And she would write to Teodora tomorrow, asking if she could just be given a vat of the stuff so no one would have to deliver it to her anymore. There was no way she was going to stop taking the Rusine no matter how deeply she felt her indifference. Hermione most certainly did not want to sink back into that pain. She’d given up on pain.

She could almost see the stains on her soul that leaving Ron, turning Harry away, hooking up with George, and saying the things she said to Malfoy had left. It was a cold heart that could do those things and it should have been hard for her to live with it. But she wasn’t going to feel any more pain. No more regrets, no more shame. Just this. Nothingness. Indifference.

“Granger? What are you doing?”

Hermione scrambled out from under her covers to see Malfoy standing in her bedroom doorway. She gaped unattractively.

“You left your front door unlocked.” he said by way of an explanation.

Hermione gawked. She’d felt so scared of Harry last night and she hadn’t even locked her front door? What was wrong with her?

“Why didn’t you just leave the potion on the landing?” she rasped.

“Teodora asked us to watch you take it.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had thought her life could rain on her all it liked and it seemed as if that was exactly what it planned to do. “Fine. Bring it here.”

“I can’t.” he deadpanned.

“Why not?” she demanded, exasperated and feeling like Malfoy was deliberately trying to make things hard for her.

“Because, Granger,” he said, using the voice he specially reserved to make her feel stupid, “You have put a shield charm up over your bedroom door.

“Oh.” Yes, she had done that hadn’t she? “Could you wait in the lounge room please?” she asked primly.

“Why? Your wand’s right there on the dresser.” said Malfoy, confused. He never did have any tact.

“Because I am naked, Malfoy.” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

His eyebrows rose minutely as he smirked and turned away, stalking back into her lounge room. Hermione shot up, moving over to the dresser and rifling through the draws. She dragged a long sleeved top and a pair of jeans on and grabbed her wand, waving it to disperse the shield charm.

She joined Malfoy in the lounge room and found him flicking through her record collection.

“Why are you here and not Blaise?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“He had something on with his mother.” Malfoy replied distractedly as he slipped a record out of the stack.

“Right.”

Malfoy approached her, his eyes never leaving the record in his hand. He handed her the vial of Rusine. “I’ve heard this.” he said, flipping the record over to look at the back.

Hermione craned her neck to see and gawked. “You’ve heard Nirvana: Unplugged in New York?”

“Yes. My mother liked muggle music.”

Hermione laughed before she could stop herself. Narcissa Malfoy, listening to muggle rock? No. Never.

Malfoy looked at her warningly and her laughter died in her throat. His eyes moved back to the record and lingered for a moment before he placed it gently back onto the pile. He turned back to Hermione. “Ok, drink away so that I can confirm that you’re not going to lose your mind.”

Hermione glared at him and threw back the potion. She was beginning to get heartily sick of the taste. It made her stomach churn.

Malfoy nodded approvingly.

Hermione had a sudden thought that if she was going to allow her life to rain on her, perhaps she should lean into it. “Well I suppose I should offer you a cup of tea, then.” she said stoically.

“Wow, that’s about the most polite thing anyone’s ever said to me.” he responded sarcastically.

“You were a death eater, Malfoy, I can actually believe that.” she said with a grin. For a second, she almost regretted it as Malfoy looked momentarily as if he might take offence but instead he just smirked and rolled his eyes.

She did not wait for his response, making her way into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He followed her and slouched casually against her bench as if he’d been doing it his entire life.

“So why were you lying in bed naked at seven o’clock at night with a shield charm on your door? Somehow I don’t think it was for any of the reasons I’m thinking of…” he said with a smirk.

Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She realised that if there was anyone in her life at the moment that she could trust to keep her secrets, aside from Teodora of course, it was Malfoy. The rest of the tovarasi that weren’t Slytherins were all too invested in each other, Blaise wouldn’t care and Hermione wasn’t sure yet if she entirely trusted Isobel. Malfoy was smart enough to understand the seriousness of the situation and cold enough not to fly off the handle.

“Ok. I will tell you, Malfoy. But you must promise that it goes no further. Ginny in particular can’t know.” said Hermione seriously.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with Potter.” said Malfoy looking at Hermione with barely concealed horror.

“Ew, Malfoy, no. For the second time, get your mind out of the gutter.” she took a deep breath, “but Harry did come and see me last night.”

“Right,” he said slowly, “I don't see how that justifies the nudity or the shield charm.”

Hermione handed him his tea and moved past him to sit on the floor opposite the couch, placing her own tea on her coffee table. Malfoy sank down onto the couch across from her.

She immediately launched into telling him about all that had happened the previous night; Harry’s rage, his demanding that she leave England with him and her subsequent fear. Malfoy listened intently, a deep frown on his face for the duration of her explanation. Once she was finished, he lifted his tea and took a sip.

“So that’s it? Potter showed up here and had a tantrum?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. “He was being really strange, Malfoy.” she said urgently, “I know Harry better than I know anyone, short of Ron, and I have never seen him act the way he did last night. I felt really unsafe and I didn’t know what to do to get him to leave…” Hermione looked up at Malfoy guiltily, “I used one of the spells from Bastet’s Line.”

Malfoy’s mouth turned into a grim, hard line. He calmly placed his tea back on the table and clenched his fists. “Which one?” he demanded, anger evident in his voice.

“Auxilium.” Hermione muttered.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands in frustration. “But Grindelwald doesn't say anything about it! You, Granger, used a spell in a book written by a dark wizard without proper research on someone who’s supposed to be your best friend?!” his voice rose in volume with every word.

Hermione glared at him. “You know, you really are great at shaming me, Malfoy. I used it because I felt unsafe ok?! I didn’t know what else to do! He was scaring me!”

Malfoy threw his hands in the air, shaking his head, “See this is the problem with you people. If I learnt one thing from Voldemort it’s this: it’s not the spells you use, it’s what you use them for. It would have been safer using the imperius curse! But you’re so wrapped up in the values the Ministry has instilled in you that you’d rather use a spell you knew next to nothing about!” he laughed exasperatedly as she glared at him, “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m right.”

“Of course I know you’re right! But I’m not ruthless like you Malfoy! I love Harry! It’s easy to curse a death eater! But when it’s someone you love, your brain gets all fucked up! I couldn’t think properly!” she sighed, “I just wanted him to leave and I didn’t know what to do.”

Malfoy looked at her for a long time before he eventually seemed to see that he couldn’t press his point any further. She felt guilty enough.

“So what did it do? Auxilium?” he asked. She could still hear the usual condescending disapproval in his voice.

Hermione shrugged. “It made him leave.”

He rolled his eyes, “No shit, Granger, I’m asking how the spell worked. How did it get him to leave?”

Hermione told him about the warmth in her feet that moved up her body; about how Harry could not come near her and how he had suddenly announced his departure after coming into contact with her glass wall.

When she had finished, Malfoy nodded. “Where’s the book? Can I see it?”

“Sure.” Hermione stood and went to the bedroom to retrieve Bastet’s Line from her tangled sheets. She walked back into the lounge room and handed it to Malfoy. “Page 394.”

He flicked through to the appropriate section and to Hermione’s embarrassment, began to read aloud.

“In Slovakia, I was given the opportunity to be present at a ritual, performed on the winter solstice, to bless the earth for the coming spring. I was told by a fellow spectator that four of their most powerful witches were to cast a spell that was to bring the goddess into their bodies so that She may move through them. I witnessed these four women gather on Her Line together. They pressed their wands to the earth at their feet and each incanted ‘Auxilium’. They then used their own hands to…”

Malfoy broke off and looked at Hermione. She rolled her eyes and waved for him to read on. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“They then used their own hands to bring themselves to climax so that they may sanctify the land with their excretions. The spell helped in their arousal and brought them faster and harder to their end.

“Once the ritual was finished, I questioned one of these women. She told me that the spell allowed the Goddess to meld with their minds and make their feelings corporeal. When I asked her if the spell could be used in any other setting, she appeared most offended, but I have surmised that any witch may cast this spell when she feels in need of it though I have no experimental proof. I was never given the opportunity to see it used in any other environment other than the ritualistic circle.

Imagine what power this spell might offer if one might cast it and have their deepest feelings satisfied and made real? Could a woman wield it against another person? Could it cause death or torture? Could it heal? I do not know how far the power of this spell stretches and it pains me that I may never find out.” Malfoy broke off, his eyes scanning the page, “He just goes on to talk about the ritual some more. I’d rather not read that aloud.”

“No, that’s fine. I have already read it before you know.” Hermione laughed.

“So, what did you feel last night when you cast the spell? What desire was the Goddess satisfying?” he asked her.

Hermione thought about it for a moment. “Well, I really didn’t want Harry to come near me and he couldn’t. There was that glass barrier. And I wanted him out of my space. It was like She reached into his mind and made him want to leave when he made contact with the glass.”

Malfoy nodded, his brow furrowed in contemplation. After a moment he stood and began pacing the length of her lounge room, the book still open in his arms. “Cast it again. Right now.” he said.

Hermione gaped at him. “What?!”

“Cast it.” he responded simply.

Hermione shook her head. “Malfoy…”

“What? I’m not worried for my safety Granger. Just cast it.”

Hermione glared at him for a moment before pressing her wand to the floor and muttering, “Auxilium.” She felt the same spreading warmth floating through her body though it felt a little different, as if it were less urgent this time, more peaceful and affectionate. It was nice to experience it without panic clouding her senses. Her mind seemed to drop into a warm, serene fog.

“Now, concentrate.” said Malfoy in a low voice, “What do you feel right now?”

Hermione felt hot. The warming charms in her flat combined with the heat pulsing through her body was a little too much. She closed her eyes. Her balcony door clicked open, letting a gust of freezing air hit her body. It stung. The balcony door swung closed. But it was enough, she was more comfortable now.

“Granger, did you just do that?” asked Malfoy in an awed voice that seemed to come from a great distance away.

Hermione nodded. She stood, taking a step back from the coffee table, and held out her hands towards Malfoy. He looked at her in confusion for a moment before the book in his hands drifted towards her outstretched fingers lazily. She willed it to close as it hovered over her palms and set it wafting over to the coffee table where it fell with a thud.

Hermione giggled. It was like discovering magic all over again. She felt as if she was smiling with her entire body, her organs, her teeth, even the tips of her hair. She felt powerful and benevolent.

Hermione desperately wished she could do this while taking the potion Grindelwald wrote about. The Zetei Otrava. To be able to see the magic in her hands, floating around her…

“Granger?”

Malfoy’s voice was distant and Hermione wasn’t listening to him. She was too busy directing her focus to the lanterns on the walls and making the fire in the candles grow to a blaze then dwindle to smouldering wick. After a few entertaining minutes of this, she urged the flame to lift off the wick and float towards her. She stepped forward to cup the little heat in her hands, being sure not to touch it. Her smiled widened. She was holding fire. There was something so blissful, childlike and innocent about her emotions, about the action. Hermione couldn’t even begin to describe the peace she felt.

“Hey mudblood, perhaps you should listen when your superiors are talking to you.”

The flame in her cupped hands snuffed out into a little wisp of smoke. Hermione wheeled around to face Malfoy. He was standing, staring at her with the sneer she knew so well. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

“What? Nothing to say? No words of wisdom? Maybe you are just as stupid as your dirty muggle parents.” he sneered. “Where are they anyway? Not dead I hope.” he laughed cruelly. “Oh, no that’s right. You had them moved into protection. Have you actually seen them though? Because I provided Voldemort with what should have been some very useful information about their whereabouts you know. Aren't they in Australia?”

Hermione felt her knees buckle and she staggered sideways. The heady feeling of the spell combined with Malfoy’s words made her mind sluggish and heavy. This couldn’t be happening. He’d betrayed her. She realised she’d actually trusted him and… Oh no… Her parents. If Voldemort had known where they were surely they were dead. Tears welled in her eyes and spilt down her cheeks. Her lungs filled with water.

She wished then, with all her heart, that Malfoy would feel what she was feeling. That he could understand the damage he’d done. That he’d see that he’d just signed her death warrant.

Suddenly the sneer on Malfoy’s face crumpled. He clutched at his chest and staggered slightly. His mouth gaped and his eyes filled with tears. She saw her own grief mirrored in his face as he let out tiny, shaking sobs.

“Granger,” he gasped as he fell to his knees at her feet, his hand still clutching at his heart, “I didn’t. Was just trying to see. Your parents. Fine.” He fell forward on his hands and gave a great, choking howl of pain. Not physical pain, emotional. A howl like the one she’d given at the start of term in McGonagall’s office. Animalistic and desperate.

It was not a sound she expected to hear from Malfoy. But she didn’t care. He deserved it. She would sit in this spell for a century, pushing her will onto him, only to see him lose his mind and… But wait. Her logic suddenly came creeping back in. If he had indeed meant what he’d said and he had handed Voldemort information on her parents whereabouts, why choose a moment when she was cultivating a power neither of them knew much about? A power that could quite possibly far outmatch his own?

She slumped down on the floor in front of Malfoy and consciously willed the pain in him to leak away. The warmth sank out of her body as the spell faded and he tried to catch his breath.

“You heartless bastard.” she said coldly.

“I’m sorry for calling you a mudblood.” he rasped.

“What if I’d wanted to kill you?” she demanded. She felt light headed but couldn’t decide if it was because of the monumental emotional upheaval Malfoy had just caused her, the force of the energy she’d expelled to get back at him, or just the general side effects of the spell. Her stomach hurt.

“I know you. You wouldn’t do that. But I thought… Crucio at least.” he sat back on his haunches and shook his head, puffing, “That was so much worse. I could have handled Crucio.”

He leant into his hands and puffed for a few minutes. Hermione watched him coldly.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“I wanted to answer Grindelwald’s question,” he rasped, “I wanted to know if the spell could give you the power to hurt other people. It was the only way I could think to do it.”

Hermione was momentarily thrown by this. She realised that this ruthless pursuit of knowledge was exactly what made Malfoy the perfect research partner. She would have been angry if he had been willing only to sacrifice her safety, but he had shown himself willing to sacrifice his as well. He hadn't known what she’d do to him, but he’d been willing to take the risk. This felt important to her.

“What did you will to make me feel like that?” he asked.

“I wanted you to feel exactly what I was feeling.” Hermione replied quietly.

“Fucking hell.” whispered Malfoy. He frowned. “I won’t do that again.” he promised.

“Thank you.” said Hermione weakly. “So I guess this means you’ll help me?”

“Yes, I’ll help you.” he said with a weary air, as if he thought he should be doing no such thing.

Hermione felt her stomach cramp again and grimaced. “Can you help me up please? I think I need to eat something…”

Malfoy nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He hooked his arm under hers and pulled her up. She smiled gratefully and limped into the kitchen.

Hermione lit the stove and put a pot filled with water on one of the hotplates, adding three raw eggs.

She watched the water as it began to bubble and her mind ticked into gear. She felt a rising sense of dread and turned to Malfoy slowly. “Malfoy? He didn’t know where my parents were did he?” she asked in a small voice.

He gave her what she thought might be a sympathetic look before she dashed the thought. Malfoy didn’t do sympathy.

“No, Granger. He tried to find them but you hid them well. He didn’t know anything. I promise.”

For some reason, Hermione believed him.

A/N So, my lovely reviewers, I hope you liked this chapter! And I have a special treat for you. A little while ago, I began writing a song that was inspired by Draco. Writing this story has made me want to finish it and finish I did. It can now be found on youtube!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qgRz4JSpOcY

If the link doesn't work, just search 'little dragon man draco malfoy prettydesdemona' :D

I also have a question. I was thinking of beginning to reply to my reviewers via a vlog. So I'd record my responses and put them up on youtube for you all to see. What do we think?

MorningSnow - Thanks for the review, it even made ME think! Hehe.

Kain - *sigh* you're amazing. Seriously.

So where do I even start replying to that? Lol. First off, I loved that little excerpt, it really captured what I'd been thinking about the Slytherins (can't say more, spoilers lol).

I completely agree about Isobel and Hermione's conversation. It was awful and beautiful at the same time.

Teodora, I think, is far more cunning than we give her credit for lol.

See, this is why I want to post vlog answers! I have so much to say in response to you but am not sure where to start! Lol. Plus it is very late and my brain has gone out to lunch haha.

I guess just know your reviews are loved and appreciated :) xx

I hope you liked this chapter!!

aranel - Aw! I'm sorry for doing that to you! I know the frustration well, but hopefully it is assuaged with this update! Thanks and I hope you liked this chapter!

Sailor Sol - Hmm. Yes you've hit on something there. A great deal of personal experience has gone into writing this. I would be very interested in you're BETAing for me. Do you have an FF.net account?

dh_reader - Oh you. Hehe. I know Isobel's hard to like right now, but stick with her. She's nice on the inside lol. The girls night was lovely, I felt all warm and glowy and feministic writing about it. Yum.

I hope you liked this chapter!!

deathraven - Oh yes indeed I am a cruel mistress hehe. I can't resist the temptation of ending on a cliffhanger. I swear, I actually laughed loudly and maniacally when I posted it, much to the alarm of the people around me lol.

I hope you liked this chapter!!

two-Five-one - I'm so glad you're invested. Seriously, that is the highest compliment for me. Thank you.

Cat - Hehe I hope all your questions were answered with this chapter! Thanks for the love!

The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Ani Difranco's song Adam & Eve. Her music has served as a huge inspiration for this piece. I own nothing. Thanks Ani!
- 14
- 15
- 16
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Victim of the Fall