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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
- 31
- 32
- 33
CHAPTER 32

SHY

“The heat is so great it plays tricks with the eye. It turns the road into water, then from water to sky.”

Hermione stood in the doorway to the bedroom clad in nothing but her small black underwear. She could hear Draco’s footsteps slumping up the spiral staircase then across the landing. Her skin was itching uncomfortably, she didn’t like being so naked when she felt so raw. But she wanted this. They needed something to pull them out of what they’d become as a couple. She needed to feel his love again.

There were two small vials of potion clenched in her hand.

Draco opened the door. For a moment, he didn’t see her at all, simply letting himself in and closing the door behind him, dropping his bag on the floor. Finally, he looked up, saw her standing there and grinned.

“What’s all this? Feeling better are we?” he said, sauntering towards her, his eyes travelling up and down her body hungrily.

“I’ve had an idea.” said Hermione evenly, careful not to let her voice betray the havoc in her head.

Draco’s hands landed on her hips when he reached her and Hermione felt the familiar pull in her lower abdomen when his face descended into the curve of her neck as he began to pepper her collarbone with kisses.

“Oh yes? And what’s that?” he asked lowly.

“The Dividing Line…” she sighed, finding herself barely able to form coherent sentences when his hands moved up to cup her breasts. He made no response to this as his mouth found one of her nipples. This was one thing she still liked about their relationship. They were comfortable with each other enough now to avoid any polite awkwardness. If he wanted her, he made that abundantly clear, without waiting for a signed notice of approval.

Hermione moaned and brought her hands around behind his bent back. She pulled the cork from one of the vials and tipped its contents into her mouth but did not swallow. She seized the back of Draco’s head, her fingers fisting in his hair, forced his face to pull up away from her breast and kissed him, pushing the potion into his mouth. As she suspected he did not recoil but took it in, drinking hungrily. She could feel his shock though.

He pushed her up against the bedroom wall, his pupils expanding alarmingly. Hermione uncorked the second vial and tipped the potion down her own throat before seizing his robes and kissing him again. The vials shattered on the floor where she dropped them.

When she opened her eyes again, the brilliant colour was back making the black fog in her mind flee as if from an offending army. She smiled.

Draco lifted her bodily and pushed her onto the bed. She lay there, staring at him as he tore his own clothes from his body. The moment he was fully exposed Hermione gasped. The strands that usually moved out of his body only when he used magic now seemed to be coming out of every pore, dancing sensually in the same greenish light. Hermione realised then that her body was reacting the same way as Draco stared down at her, transfixed by the sight. The tendrils coming out of each of them seemed to be reaching for the other, eager to connect.

It was then that Hermione noticed one lone strand that was slightly thicker than the others coming out of the very top of her spine. She followed it with her eyes and saw that it descended into the same place under Draco’s hairline at the base of his crown.

She stood slowly, following the lone tendril that connected them. She moved behind him and pushed his head forward slightly. He complied. There it sunk under his skin and she could see it glowing and pulsing underneath, intertwining with his spinal cord. It had not been there the last time they’d taken the potion.

With forefinger and thumb Hermione pinched it between her fingers softly. She was surprised to discover that she could actually feel it there, like a thin, cool piece of rope. She tugged lightly. Draco moaned, his knees buckling slightly.

“What was that?” he whispered when he’d recovered.

Hermione moved in front of him and lifted her short hair. She felt his fingers on the back her neck, then, when he tugged lightly too, understood entirely the reason he had moaned. When he pulled on the tendril, her whole body was shot through with pure euphoria and ecstasy for a few blissful seconds. Almost like an orgasm but not. She moaned too.

Without any real conscious thought, they fell back on the bed together. Hermione had lost her underwear at some point though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when. Draco’s fingers wound between her legs but she wasn’t having any of that. She didn’t want to be teased.

“Fuck me.” she said almost demandingly. It wasn’t a request.

Draco laughed lowly and complied, placing himself between her legs. The head of his cock teased at her entrance for a few moments before her legs linked between his back and tightened violently, forcing him to move into of her. Her eyes closed.

She cried out as she was impaled, feeling like she couldn’t possibly ever be any happier than this. It was almost unconceivable that she’d been depressed before. What was depression, what was that black fog compared to this unimaginable power? This big love?

She and Draco had never had sex like that. He was violent with her and she was violent in return. What he was doing could only be described as animalistic. He thrust so hard that the whole bed shook, that it knocked the breath from her lungs each time their bodies slammed together. Her fingers raked his back. She could feel his skin gathering under her fingernails; feel the sticky wetness on her palms as they became coated in his blood.

When Hermione finally opened her eyes she found she could not see the bedroom at all. They were both encased in a sphere of softly glowing mist. The colours were indescribable. There were too many to count or name but then none at all. It was as if the walls of their sphere were tangible. Their cries and moans bounced off them and echoed beautifully.

“Look Draco.” she gasped and he opened his eyes too, his thrusts slowing slightly when he saw their glowing cage.

His happiness seemed to travel into her then, reaching the apex of her spine and sending shivers down her back.

Suddenly, his thrusts became more urgent. Hermione pushing her hand down between their two bodies and let her fingers press and rub against her clit. She wanted to come with him. For the first time in a while, she found no difficulty in doing it. She realised she’d been at that point from the moment he’d penetrated her. She was ready.

Moments later the crescendo peaked and Hermione forced her eyes to stay open as she came, and watched the colour around them explode catastrophically.

But then came a very unfamiliar sensation. She was slightly ahead of Draco, her orgasm hitting her about fifteen seconds before he reached his. But when he did, she suddenly felt her mind filled with his presence, almost as if he’d cast Legillimens. The guttural shout that erupted from his mouth as his climax hit echoed around the spaces in her head too.

He was in there, inhabiting her headspace, and he had not yet realised it.

In that moment, even though she was dazed with the potion and dazed with the post orgasm endorphins running through her veins, she began to see a whole world of other possibilities.

His thrusts slowed, his arms shook on either side of her and his breath was one her face.

“Draco,” she said slowly, “What are you doing?”

His eyes opened and he looked up at her. “What?”

And the presence was gone.

“You were in my head.” she said.

“I was?” he asked, breathing hard.

“Yeah.” she sighed as he pulled out and rolled off her.

“How?”

“I don’t know. But I want you to try and do it again… Maybe it’s like when you gave me that orgasm after taking the Virtus Lucis, remember?”

He chuckled. “Oh yes. I remember…”

Hermione laughed. “Shut up. Anyway, you sort of… Pushed yourself inside me. Try that.”

Draco sat up onto one elbow and looked her in the eye. He wore a frustrated frown but Hermione was beginning to feel something tickling the back of her neck. She realised she was tensing so she tried to relax her muscles. She let out a slow breath and let herself sink into the mattress as she closed her eyes. Just when she was beginning to feel truly peaceful, Draco’s awareness burst into her mind.

She let out a soft, “Oh!” as his consciousness filled up every nook and cranny in her head.

Holy fuck.

Hermione gave a start. His voice was not coming from beside her but inside her head. He wasn’t speaking aloud, he was thinking and she could hear it.

“Draco, I can hear you.” she said quietly, her voice shaking, “I can hear you thinking.”

What?

“I said, I can hear you thinking inside my mind.” she repeated, “What is it like?”

I… I can see! I can see everything in here. Everything that’s you… Holy fuck.

“What? What does it look like?” she whispered urgently.

I can’t… I can’t even begin to describe it. I can see the scars… From the cruciatus curse that Bellatrix cast. And the one you cast too and there’s… There’s this image of me… But it’s changing, hold on… I think we’re having sex… What? Now it’s George Weasley! And I can feel you’re… You’re sad. Guilt. I can feel the guilt.

Hermione’s heart beat rapidly in her chest and her palms began to sweat. Was he seeing her dream?

Wait… Now it’s… But that’s Potter! But… You never had sex with Potter did you?

“No, Draco, it’s a dream I’ve been having. One of the nightmares.” she said weakly.

Oh… Well… Now it’s Weasley. And you’re happy. I can feel you’re happy… I don’t understand.

He sounded tired and sad. Hermione wanted to comfort him, to refute what he was seeing but she knew she couldn’t.

Suddenly it occurred to her that she could simply think of something different, the dream had been something she’d been dwelling on so perhaps she could just dwell on another thought. She grasped for something in the recesses of her mind that might make him feel better. But of course, when she was trying not to think of certain things, those things were all she could think about.

Hermione, what are you doing!? Calm down!

He sounded panicked.

“What? What are you seeing now?” she asked frantically, trying to grab a hold of her whirring mind.

A man is falling through a grey curtain up on a raised dais. I don’t know who it is… Now you’re running through a forest, Weasley is in front of you and… He’s apparated away. Potter’s there now. He’s twitching and talking. I think he’s asleep… You’re cutting some sort of necklace off his chest…You’re… You’re at a funeral. Mrs Weasley is crying. You’re standing in the lake holding Isobel… You think she’s dead… Fucking hell.

She could hear his distress and brought forward the one thought she could summon that she felt might be happy.

Wait… Now it’s us. We’re kissing on New Year’s… It’s changing again… I’m above you and we’re… I’m coming. You think I’m a god. You love me.

Just then, his voice constricted with emotion and slowly but carefully she felt his presence leak out of her mind. She opened her eyes.

He was still lying beside her but his thumb and forefinger were pressed into his eyes. He was crying again. Hermione rolled onto her side and draped her arm and leg over his naked body, without waiting for him to give her permission; she focussed her energy and began to push herself into his mind. The curiosity was too much. She wanted to see what he’d seen.

It was like her consciousness exited her head through the singular green strand connected to the apex of her spine. For a moment she was aware only of light but then, it was like she opened her eyes and she was in a great, cavernous black space. But it wasn’t black. It was filled with images.

Hermione was aware, dully, of her physical body, but she was more aware of herself in the recesses of Draco’s psyche. She was there, really there. If she looked down she could see her own naked body and her feet planted on what she assumed was some sort of floor. Pictures were blooming out of the darkness, showing her flashes of his life and it reminded her of being inside a muggle movie theatre, except the images were everywhere.

The other obvious difference was that she could actually feel his emotions.

What do you see?

His voice echoed through the vast space.

“I can see… I can see your mother and your father. They’re talking about you like you’re not there, talking about how you’re doing in school. He’s… He’s shaming you. I can feel your pain, the yearning…” she watched as the image dissolved into something else. A girl talking, someone she recognised. “You’re talking to Pansy. She’s babbling about the Dark Lord. You’re scared.” the picture flitted away into blackness but the feelings stayed until an image much stronger and brighter than the last ones assaulted her eyes. She was looking at Harry standing in the doorway to a bathroom. “Now… It’s Harry…” she felt Draco’s overwhelming, crushing desire to speak, to seek help, but then, equally strongly, she felt the Dark Lord’s influence over his life crush it. The memory Draco drew his wand. “Oh, Draco…” she said quietly, “Why didn’t you say something? He would have listened… He would have helped you…”

He did not respond.

The image flickered out and Hermione was plunged into darkness.

“How do you have such good control over it?” she asked, knowing that she would not have been able to stop the thoughts coming unbidden to her mind even if she tried.

I’m an Occlumens. he replied. First rule, control your emotions. Empty your mind.

“Oh. Ok. Well… It’s quite dark in here and…” but she was never able to finish. Suddenly not one image but a thousand of them burst into life all around her. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures of her.

She watched herself sleeping, smiling, coming, talking. His mind showed the image of her, blue and cold in the lake, of how she’d looked from up on the dais at Hogwarts when he gave his start of term speech, of the fire in her eyes when he’d walked in and found her battling Harry.

The emotions that cascaded over her as she watched all this were varied. There was admiration and respect, frustration and amusement, arousal and anger, fondness and concern, yearning and need. But… The one thing that seemed to be missing was love. She didn’t feel his love.

Hermione felt almost ready to lose herself in despair at this realisation but she reigned in the feelings. Perhaps she was misinterpreting it. Everyone felt love in different ways… Perhaps she couldn’t feel his love because he didn’t feel it the same way as she did so she was looking for the wrong thing.

Either way, she didn’t want to look at herself anymore.

She turned away from the images.

“Draco… I want to try something. Can you imagine light?” she asked.

He did not reply but suddenly, the images were gone and replaced by light, it flooded the space. It did not look much different to the blackness though now, she could see it was infinite. It made her head spin.

There was nothing except the brightness and the shadows of memories moving through the air. But… There was something… She could see it in the distance, a black shape. Unlike the memories, it looked tangible. She walked towards it.

What are you doing?

“I can see something… I’m walking towards it…” she said lightly.

Stop.

“Why?”

It’s… Uncomfortable. You’re going too deep.

“I just want to see what this thing is… It’s alright Draco. You can trust me.”

She could feel his discomfort and as she moved towards the black shape, the discomfort was beginning to morph into all out panic.

She broke into a run and suddenly, it was on top of her. A wall.

Hermione looked at it in confusion, feeling that it was a little anticlimactic. It was a nondescript stretch of blank, black wall, about two metres wide. She looked behind it and found nothing. She frowned in confusion before reaching out a hand to touch it, noting that is felt cold like brick.

That hurts. said Draco and she noticed, with alarm, that he now sounded angry.

“Does it hurt when I touch it?” she asked calmly.

I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, but it hurts!

Hermione swiftly withdrew her hand. But there was something familiar about the wall…Something she could not quite put her finger on. Until…

“Draco,” she said evenly, “I think this is a memory charm.”

The magic moving off the wall was certainly familiar. She’d spent months acquainting herself with it before she’d gone on the hunt for the Horcruxes. And then she’d used it on her parents.

She could feel his immense anxiety and so, allowed her consciousness to float out of his mind, through the green tendril and back into her own head space.

Hermione opened her eyes and felt instantly dizzy.

Draco was lying on his back; his forehead had beads of sweat dripping down into his hairline.

“A memory charm?” he asked breathlessly.

Hermione nodded. “I can reverse it if you like… I know how.” She’d made damn sure she knew how before she’d cast it on her parents.

“Yeah… Alright.” he said, looking scared. “Who would put a memory charm on me?” he asked, more of himself than her.

She shrugged, noticing that the colours and the tendrils were beginning to fade.

“We should sleep now.” she said firmly. She didn’t want to be awake while the potion wore off. “We can think about that when we wake up, yeah?”

He nodded, still frowning and Hermione lay herself back down next to his body, snuggling into his warmth. She wasn’t worried. More than likely, he’d seen something he shouldn’t have during the war. But that wouldn’t have any effect on where they were now. The war was over.

Hermione drifted into sleep with Draco’s heartbeat singing in her ear.

Hermione woke at about one o’clock in the morning, cold and shivering. The sheets were thrown back off her body. The bedroom’s curtains were strangely open and a brilliant white moon was dimly lighting the room. Everything was so quiet, so still, that she might have believed for a moment that she was alone. If Draco was still in bed with her, he wasn’t touching her at all and she felt slightly hurt that he hadn’t drawn the covers back up over her naked body. Her stomach churned unpleasantly.

Hermione rolled over and started a little to see that she was not alone, nor was she the only one awake. Draco was lying there, staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head.

“Hey.” she whispered. He turned his head slightly and looked at her blankly but made no move to respond. Hermione extended an arm to lay her hand on his chest. “Are you alright?”

He nodded.

“What’s going on?” she pressed, feeling both frustrated and a little fearful of his insular behaviour.

“Just thinking.” he finally responded.

She hated him when he was like this, when he wouldn’t talk to her. It felt so wrong, like they shouldn’t be capable of not talking to each other. Hermione rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling too.

“What was tonight about, Hermione?” Draco asked suddenly. She could see him turn his face to look at her out of her peripheral vision.

“I don’t know. Things… Well, they haven’t been great lately have they? I wanted to do something for us to… Pull us out of the funk I guess.” she replied, sighing.

“What funk?”

Hermione gave a quiet, cynical laugh and turned onto her side to look at him. “Why do you have to do that? Why pretend? You know what it’s been like. We’re not the same as we used to be…”

He frowned, “No, I guess not.”

Hermione stared at him for a long time, waiting for him to say something more, to offer her something else that might be useful. But he gave her nothing.

“What happened to us?” she asked quietly. He didn’t answer.

She could feel the tears prickling the back of her eyes and used getting out of bed as an excuse to dash at them with the back of her hand. Her feet padded across the floor towards the bedroom door.

“I’m going to make some tea.” she said huskily.

“Ok.” was the only reply she got.

Hermione pulled on a fresh pair of underwear and her quidditch jersey. She walked into the kitchen without a backwards glance and set the kettle onto the stove to boil. The sound of the gas stove flaring up and the hissing as it hit the metal bottom of the kettle made her feel less like she was going mad. The flat had been far too quiet.

She stretched up towards the cupboard that housed her mugs, picked up two and then, after a pause, put one back. If he wanted tea, he could make it himself.

There was a noise behind her and Hermione turned around to find Draco standing in the archway of the kitchen, yawning widely, clad in nothing but his underwear. In that moment, she hated that she still found him beautiful.

She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly.

“I was wondering if you could undo that memory charm.” he said.

Hermione frowned. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Hold on.” she took the kettle off the stove and moved past him into the lounge room to retrieve her wand off the coffee table. “Are you worried?” she asked lightly.

“No, just curious.” he replied. “Do you need me to sit down?”

“That would be preferable.”

He sank down onto the couch and Hermione perched next to him, pointing her wand at his temple. The process was not unlike the Legillimens spell. She would need to enter his mind and deconstruct the charm delicately, only unlike Legillimens, she couldn’t see what she was doing, she had to feel her way around the magic. Without further ado, she said the required incantation under her breath and closed her eyes. The construct of the spell began to move around her, not unlike the strands of magic she’d seen under the influence of the Zeitei Otrava. In fact, her experience with the potion actually made the process easier as she was able to picture in her mind what the charm might look like.

Hermione began unravelling the complicated webs of magic around Draco’s mind. It was stronger than she’d imagined and it was its density that made her nervous. Whoever had cast it really did not want Draco to remember anything. Has she been less experienced or well versed in the process, she would not have been able to do it at all.

After a few long minutes of intense concentration, the final pieces of the charm fell away and Hermione opened her eyes.

“Done.”

Draco was staring off into space, his brow furrowed. He began to look more and more panicked as the time ticked by and Hermione resisted the temptation to demand that he speak. Eventually though, her resistance crumbled.

“What? What is it?” she asked urgently.

Draco took a deep, steadying breath, before he looked at Hermione seriously.

“You and Potter and Weasley, what were you doing during the war? All those months you were gone?” he asked slowly.

“We were… We were looking for Horcruxes.” she replied, frowning in confusion. “They were things that Voldemort used to…”

“I know what they are.” he said abruptly, cutting her off. “Did you destroy them all?”

“Yes! Of course!” she scoffed. As if he could simply think that they’d left any behind, that they’d risk that. Hermione began to relax, clearly he’d heard something about them and that’s why the charm had been put in place. Though, she thought privately, he was lucky he hadn’t been killed.

“Are you sure?” pressed Draco.

Hermione laughed and put a hand on his knee. “Yes, Draco I’m sure.” he exhaled loudly and grinned sheepishly at her before she continued, “The locket, the cup, the snake, the diadem, the ring, the diary and Harry himself. All destroyed.”

Suddenly Draco didn’t look so relaxed. He sat up straighter and stared at Hermione intently, “And the wand?” he asked slowly.

Hermione shook her head, baffled, “Which wand? What are you talking about?”

He grasped onto her shoulders and shook her slightly. “The wand! The wand! His wand!”

Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth. “His… his wand was a Horcrux?” she said dimly.

“YES!” he all but shouted. Hermione’s ears rung.

“But… That’s not possible…” she whispered, terror filling her mind, insinuating itself into all of the dark corners of her psyche. “How do you know?!” she demanded.

He frowned in concentration. “I… I overhead him talking about it… In my sixth year during the Christmas holidays.”

“What?! What did he say?!” she said urgently, “Draco, I need to know!”

“I can show you if you like.”

“How?”

“Use Legillimens. It’s not that hard… You just picture the spell like a blunt force. Sort of like we did before with the potion.”

Hermione did not bother to respond. She lifted her wand, pointed at his head and said as firmly as she could, “Legillimens!”

Instantly she had the feeling of weightlessness as the image of Draco’s pale face in front of her blinked out and all she could see was darkness. Then, slowly, voices reached her ears, as if approaching her from a long distance away.

“You’re to wait here until you are called. You will not leave, do you understand me?”

Hermione recognised that voice, though it was usually laced with silk. She wasn’t used to it being so harsh.

“But father… Won’t you come in with me?” that was Draco, his voice a little higher than she was used to. He sounded terrified.

Suddenly, the blackness dissolved. She could see Draco, standing in front of a pair of massive wooden doors. They were closed. Lucius towered over him, wearing a sneer of disgust.

“Do you contradict me, boy?! Do you really expect the Dark Lord to spare such an insolent little coward?!” he snarled.

Draco cowered.

“You will wait here. Do you understand me? If you move from this spot, I will personally see to it that you are tortured within an inch of your life! Do you not understand what is at stake here?! If you do not comply, your mother and I are as good as dead! Do you want your mother’s blood on your hands, Draco?” hissed Lucius.

Draco twitched jarringly at his father’s cutting words and shook his head. “No sir.” Hermione had never heard him so utterly defeated.

“So you will stay here until you are called. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

And with one last revolted scowl, Lucius swept away, leaving the young Draco to stare up at the wooden door. Hermione could see him shaking.

A few long minutes passed. Hermione could hear voices, distantly, as if they were coming from behind the door, but she could not make out anything they were saying. As per his father’s orders, he did not move.

Suddenly, the door opened a crack and Draco jumped. The voices became crystal clear.

“Yes, my lord. I will see to it immediately.”

Hermione’s skin crawled. She would recognise that voice anywhere. She looked around Draco’s body to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing with her hand on the door knob, looking behind her, away from her frozen nephew.

“Oh, and Bellatrix?” said Voldemort in his high, cold voice.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I have been concerned as of late…”

“About what, my lord?” asked Bellatrix in her simpering tone. Her hand left the doorknob as she walked back into the depths of the room so that Hermione could no longer see her, but the door remained ajar. Draco stood stock still in front of the door and she wanted to yell out to him to run away, to hide, but she knew it would be pointless.

“My Horcruxes, Bellatrix. You are the only person whom I trust with such matters. I fear that the old fool may suspect… But this is folly, of course. The cup still resides safely in your fault at Gringotts I trust?”

“Yes, of course, my lord.”

“Yes…” the end of the word rang through the air eerily, “I have long believed them to be untouchable. But now, perhaps I realise I was mistaken. They may be found, should one look deep enough…” he said in a tone that suggested he was talking more to himself than to her.

“I believe you underestimate yourself my lord.” said Bellatrix reverentially.

Voldemort gave a high, cold laugh. “Yes, as I am most prone to do… Of course, my faith remains firm with the two that remain closest to me. Nagini is rarely anywhere but by my side and my wand, of course, remains always in my hand, though I have long been unsure as to whether I did succeed in making it a Horcrux… Anyone who would dare attempt to take it would be a fool indeed.” his tone was laced with a malignance that made Hermione feel sick.

“Of course, my lord.” said Bellatrix, “You have nothing to fear, my lord.”

“I will be the judge of that, Bellatrix.” he snarled, “You may go.”

Hermione watched as Bellatrix backed out of the room and closed the door behind her. She turned and started upon seeing Draco. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the back of his robes and pushed him bodily backwards into a dark alcove jutting off the large room.

“What are you doing?!” she hissed.

“M-my father told me I was to wait.” he replied, shaking and cringing away from his Aunt.

“How much did you hear?!”

“N-nothing!” he cried, a hint of a plea in his voice.

“Do not lie to me, Draco!” there was a moment where her eyes locked on his and something passed between them before Bellatrix spoke again, “If the Dark Lord had not given you a most important mission, Draco, I would kill you myself! But alas, we cannot risk it.”

Draco’s Aunt raised her wand and everything was plunged again into darkness.

Back in reality, Hermione opened her eyes, her vision lurching slightly as it readjusted. Draco was looking at her with an unreadable expression.

Hermione leapt to her feet, sending her own wand clattering across the wooden floor loudly. “Oh my god… Draco… What if…? He said that he did not know if he’d succeeded in making the wand a Horcrux! But what if he did?! What if he’s not dead?! What if Voldemort’s not gone?!”

“Don’t say the name!!” Draco demanded suddenly but Hermione ignored him.

Her hands shook and her throat ran dry. The mere thought that he may still be out there somewhere, half formed, probably waited for someone to… to…

Hermione’s knees hit the floor with a painful crack as the truth hit her mind like a killing curse. It was one of the most painful truths she’d ever experienced in all her life. She looked slowly up at Draco, who had stood too and was staring down at her with a manic expression on his face.

“Draco… Harry… He… He was using Voldemort’s wand.”

“What?”

“When he was here… He didn’t have the phoenix feather wand… He had Voldemort’s.”

She’d held the wand in her hand, it had been right there. She’d used it to torture Harry and she remembered the satisfaction, the feeling it had given her. Feelings that were not her own… And he’d gotten it back. He’d lifted his hand and the wand had flown out of her fingers and returned to its master even though she’d technically won its allegiance by taking it from him. Because it wasn’t just a wand… It was a Horcrux.

Then, she knew. She should have seen it before. Hadn’t she said it over and over again? Harry wasn’t Harry anymore. She’d used the thought to comfort herself but now she realised the truth. He wasn’t Harry. He was Voldemort.

But then, why didn’t he kill her? Why did he come to her at all? Perhaps there was still a part of Harry still alive in his mind, locked away in the very depths of it. A part that she might still be able to save…

Hermione leapt to her feet, snatching her wand from the floor.

“We have to go.” she said. She knew what had to be done. She’d devoted a year of her life already to doing it. She’d known she might have died last time, but she’d been determined, committed to saving the wizarding world. She’d sworn to help destroy him. And that oath still held true.

The threat of death was still just as real, but she didn’t care. She would not stand by and allow another war to tear the lives of her loved ones apart.

“Hermione, what are you doing?” asked Draco slowly, she could see his heart jumping in his bare chest.

“We’re leaving. We need to talk to the tovarasi, to Ginny. I… I need to see Ron.” she said firmly. Ron had sworn to the hunt as well. If there was anyone that could aid her in saving Harry, it was him. Without waiting for Draco to reply, Hermione dashed into the bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans, her bra and a jumper, her wand clutched in her hand the whole time. She returned only moments later to the lounge room and snatched her beaded back off the coffee table. She bent down and retrieved the box that contained the remaining vials of the Zeitei Otrava from under the couch and deposited the whole thing into the bag. She added Bastet’s Line as an afterthought.

Finally, she looked up at Draco who was still standing in the middle of the room.

“Come on! What are you doing?! We have to go!!” she cried, bemused by his lack of action.

To her alarm, Draco did not move.

Kain - I'm really glad you're cottoning onto Hermione's state of mind. She's in a bad place right now but... Well, she tried to distract again didn't she? And just look where that's gotten her!

I love ALL THE MUSIC you suggested lol. Seriously. BRILLIANT taste there Kain old boy. I commend you!

Yep, a sequel is definitely on the way! But perhaps not quite in the way that people will think :D

Vrrtak - Thanks for the review! I did indeed mean the American band Nirvana. But I'm afraid I have to correct you on the vinyl thing. I actually own Unplugged in New York in record form. Musicians have continued to use vinyl as a medium even after the technology progressed into tape/CD/mp3 because most people think that vinyl preserves the musical integrity. Hope you liked this chapter :)

Cat - Oh god I wish there was a wizarding version of Dr Drew lol. That would be amazing. I totally love the song choice though, really apt! I think Draco WAS a lovely distraction for a while... But I'm not sure I like him much now he's being so cold. In all honestly, it doesn't sound like he cares much what Hermione's going through. The bastard lol.

anna - Wow! Thank you so much for that lovely review!!! I hope you liked this chapter :D

ANONYMONSTER - Aw... Wow, seriously that was beautiful. I'm so glad that you feel so connected with Hermione's state of mind, it really means a lot to me because it's all so personal for me. I'm so happy I got you onto Ani! She's brilliant and empowering and just... ACK! Lovely. All over the place lol. The plan is most definitely to write novels. I'm working on the first of a fantasy series once Victim of the Fall is done. But I will continue with fanfiction too!! xx

The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Ani Difranco's song Shy. Her music has served as a huge inspiration for this piece. I own nothing. Thanks Ani!
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Victim of the Fall