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Breaking the Chain	By : RynStar15 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 42452 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, that belongs to the glorious J.K Rowling. I don't make any money off of this writing, I simply twist her world for my own pleasure.

Chapter List
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Sometimes I wonder where I'd end up
If I follow this dark angel
Into the unknown years we planned
Living ghosts of a life that could have been

Hermione ran the gold strand through her fingers, the metal cool against her palm. She splayed the broken necklace out against her hand, the glass and gold glinting uselessly in the weak sunlight, the perfect metaphor for her shattered heart.
Hermione closed her eyes against the shine, a headache already throbbing behind her eyes. A slow breeze wafted its way across her face, too cold to be soothing. It didn’t matter. Nothing could sooth her aching heart anyway.
She lifted her face and looked out across the grey lake before her, frozen over, snow caking the ground around it, glinting prettily beneath the weak sun. The weather was too nice for the day which deserved storms, hurricanes, typhoons, not clear skies and a shining sun. She loathed the light, willed it away.
She looked away from the day and back to the object in her hands, lost in dreams and could-have-been’s. She was hollow now, bereft of any emotion beyond all-consuming grief. She felt nothing but the dull ache of loneliness. No one knew, she had told no one of her and Draco; the only ones who had known about their tragic affair were either dead or soulless.
She almost envied Lucius his fate.
Everyone figured she was just distraught from the battle, from the henious torture she'd suffered at the hands of Voldemort, but they were wrong. The battle was the only thing that had kept her going. The after-affects; the cleaning up, the repairs, the collecting and preparing of the bodies. She had not yet seen Draco’s, she couldn’t face it, but she had taken care of Colin personally as requested by Dennis. She had also cleaned up Charlie and Percy Weasley for Molly and Arthur’s sake as it appeared the two had faced Fenrir. Neville had also been too hard for her to bear so Remus had done it for her.
Hermione had assisted in the re-building of the school, the fixing of the grounds, the re-application of the wards. She had helped Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing after she had been fixed up for the second time, stood side-by-side with Molly in the kitchen chopping potatoes, pretending she didn’t hear her sniff or see the tears that poured down her face. She listened to Harry’s tale, held him when he’d cried and cared for him, bringing him food and necessary items when he’d needed to be alone in Sirius’ room. She had made stomach calming potions for Fleur who was going through a terrible bout of morning sickness. She kept herself busy because if she stopped, her thoughts flew to him, to his eyes, his arms, his warmth, his voice…
“Hermione?”
She looked up. Fred was there, as he had been recently. He gestured to the spot next to her and she nodded. They didn’t talk, they rarely did. Hermione felt so alone with no one who understood what she was going through, no one who knew of her broken heart, but Fred’s presence had been oddly soothing, a balm to her shattered soul.
She heard him sucking in a breath and braced herself for some pep talk or other, but his words stole the breath from her lungs. “Hermione…I know.”
She didn’t look up. “What do you know, Fred?”
“About…well, about you and Malfoy.”
She froze. He didn’t know. No one did...
“We all know, well, not all of us but some of us anyway. We know something happened between you two while you were gone. We...George, Lee and I…we were standing outside the room when you were talking to Lucius the night of the battle. Lee didn’t want us to barge in because he wanted to mount a surprise attack, so we waited and we heard…" Hermione stiffened, but Fred continued on, his voice low and gentle. "It made sense since you’ve been, you know... And Ginny knows too…she said something to me…she didn’t say it to be meddlesome or anything, she just needed someone to talk to about it and she didn’t think you were ready…it’s okay if you’re not, you don’t have to or anything… And we won't say anything, the four of us. We won't tell anyone if you want to keep it quiet. Just...just know you’re not alone, alright? I’ll-we’ll-I’ll listen…if you want to talk, that is.”
Fred took a deep, shaky breath after his monologue. Hermione was paralyzed but his admission. She couldn't look up from the sliver of gold and hope in her hands. She couldn’t face him because she knew she would see that pity in his gaze he often had when looking at her.
A part of her was glad someone knew, it made what they'd shared feel more real. She knew Ginny would eventually let slip to Harry who would tell Ron…it was bound to get out now.
Another darker part of her hated that they knew, the jealous part that wished she could keep the two of them tucked inside her selfishly, the only place they existed anymore. Right here, in her hands was the only place where they had been happy, where two doomed lovers had thrived, had loved and died. The past had given her everything, and then mercilessly ripped it away.
Fred moved as if to get up but Hermione put out a hand, stilling him. She had to swallow several times before she found her voice.
“Please," she barely whispered. "Stay.”
He sat back down, close but not touching. She could feel his energy, the heat from his body. The comfort of another human was calming, one who knew where her dark mind was. He wouldn't pry, but at least he wasn't sitting there thinking she had gotten brain damage from the torture that had been inflicted upon her like others must assume.
Her eyes caught a movement to her left and she looked up. She could see him, standing there, bright blonde hair glinting it the sun, a smirk on his beautiful face, pale hands buried deep in his pockets. She started to rise and he disappeared, a mirage. Her imagination.
“Hermione? You alright? What is it?” Fred asked anxiously, looking between her and the empty grounds where she was still staring.
“I-I thought I saw… never mind," she said, sinking and closing her eyes against the cruel world. "It doesn’t matter.”
His hand covered hers, long fingers clasping her hands which clutched the Time Turner like a life line.
"Hermione...he's gone. Just like Charlie and Perce...they're gone. But we aren't. We're still here, you are still here. We have to move on. For them.”
She drew her hands away from his, cradling the necklace to her chest.
“I know,” she whispered, keeping her eyes shut tight, hiding from the truth. She could make herself disappear too…
Colors were too painful to bear, warmth, comfort. She couldn’t stand it. She wanted to be numb, unfeeling, like him. If she closed her eyes, if she thought back to that time it might just go back, she might go back…she could keep him...
“He didn't choose me.” The words fell out of her mouth without even thinking about saying them. But it was true, horribly, achingly true.
Fred said nothing for a long while. Hermione didn’t know why she’d told him. Maybe, if she said it out loud, if she reminded herself of that one little fact, it would make the parting more bearable.
“Why would you say something like that?” he finally asked.
“It’s the truth. I’m telling you so you know. I offered him sanctuary when we got home. Offered him protection, we could keep him safe, we could be together...but when we came back he threw everything we'd shared back in my face, sneered at me, told me it had all been a farce. And then he went back to them. He didn't choose me."
“Hermione, he gave his life for you, he switched your bodies to keep you safe. He knew Voldemort wanted you dead so he took your place. Do you really believe any of what you just said?”
“He told me-”
“Hermione, they have always said you are the smartest witch of your age, of our generation. So use that beautiful brain. Don’t listen to his words, listen to his actions. Did you ever feel a connection? Did he ever do anything to make you think he might love you, too? Personally, I think giving your life for someone is a pretty obvious gesture.”
She didn’t notice she was crying until Fred pressed a handkerchief into her hands which were still clenching the broken necklace as if it alone could heal her heart. She looked down at it but did not move, feeling as if she did she would shatter into a thousad pieces and float off with the breeze.
Slowly, Fred leaned forward and took the cloth, wiping her tears from her face gently. He tilted her chin with the crook of his forefinger and she finally looked up at him, her vision swimming, her pain reflected back to her.
“How could he?" she choked out, her body shuddering beneath the words. "How could he just leave me? It w-wasn’t supposed to be like this…I was ready to go, I’d said my good-byes, made my amends…it was my time, my burden to bear, not his! Why would he do it? WHY?”
He yanked her into his arms and the comfort was more than she could bear. Sobs wracked her body; she could contain them no longer. Today marked the day she would have to face reality, face the future, a future without Draco...
“I can’t do this, I c-can’t bear it! I-It’s tearing me apart, my heart…it aches, I can’t sleep, I can't think…I need him…I need him and he left m-me! He l-left me alone! I hate him! I h-hate him for doing this to me! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”
He rocked her silently and she clutched at his robes as if her life depended on it. He anchored her to the earth, to life. She had let herself dream of a white gown, of waking next to grey eyes, of growing old, of happiness... They had been so close…how could this have happened?
“I can’t," she wept wretchedly, shaking her head. "I can’t…not without him…”
"You can," Fred grated out, his voice harsh. "You will."
She moaned in agony. “Why? Why, why, why, why, why?”
“Because he loved you more than life itself.”
She was screaming, keening wails heaving from her chest, tearing out of her at every memory of his strong arms tearing her away from harm, carrying her when she couldn't carry herself, holding her in the pouring rain against the despair of their situation or against his chest as she writhed in ecstacy. His final words to her before he'd transformed, his final confession, one said too late...
Hermione gasped for air and Fred rubbed her back soothingly.
“He was protecting you, Hermione. This is what he wanted.”
“But what about what I wanted? I wanted him, I need him! You don’t get it, you don’t-" her voice broke and he held her tighter.
"You’re right," he said softly. "I don’t. I’m hoping I never do.”
He rocked her until her sobs settled, mopped her ruddy face as the weight of the world sapped the strength from her body and she was plait as a rag doll under his minitrations. Then the two of them just sat in the snow and silently mourned until a voice spoke from above them.
“Fred, Hermione?" They looked up. Remus stood there, his black dress robes billowing around him in the breeze. “It’s time.”
Hermione allowed Fred to pull her up and stood on shaky legs. When Fred and Remus waited for her she nodded to urge them forward. She had to do this alone.
She took one last look at the serene winter scene before her, sucking in a final, calming breath before trudging up the snowy slope behind the men, clutching the necklace in her pocket.
They walked to where they had held Dumbledore’s ceremony. It felt like an eternity ago. So much had happened since their beloved headmaster had given his life for the cause.
Now, many caskets lined the grounds, the heroes who had followed in his footsteps. Hundreds upon hundreds of people settled into seats, bundled against the cold. Hermione saw her own seat up front between Ron and Harry who were anxiously awaiting her. Hermione was suddenly terrified of that chair. If she sat down, if she listened to Remus' rehearsed words, it would be real.
This can’t be happening…
Frozen in place, Hermione looked at the framed pictures that sat on top of gleaming boxes depicting those that lie inside them. Hermione couldn’t take her seat between Ron and Harry, it was too surreal. It wasn’t where she belonged.
She belonged with him. He wouldn’t go through this alone.
Hermione’s eyes roamed the pictures, all smiling, waving, nodding. She knew most of them but she couldn’t concentrate on those people. Her eyes looked for only one.
There, the very back corner. Someone was talking, the service had begun. Harry had risen and was walking towards her but Hermione turned away from him and trudged through the snow towards her destination. The ground pulled at her shoes, sucking at her, tugging her back as if to say if you don’t see, it won’t be real. But she had to see, had to know...
His picture mocked her. His grin, the one she had seen so many times, held no heat, no life.
That wasn’t him. The real him…it was so much more. She reached out to touch his face. Nothing. She touched only glass. It wasn’t enough. She had to see, had to know, for sure.
Hermione grasped the damnable frame and threw it to the ground, shattering his mocking smile. She lifted the heavy wooden lid without touching it, her eyes closed. She could hear gasps, whispers, people murmuring behind her, Remus' voice faltering. She didn’t care, they didn’t matter.
She opened her eyes. There he laid, a mimic, a facade. Pale…so, so pale. His face held no color against the dress robes someone had put him in. He was still, how could he be so still?
The air left her lungs, left her as he had, alone, frightened. Not true, not true. She reached out, fingers hovering above his face, her hand quavering. She sobbed when his skin felt so cold beneath her fingertips. His hair ran through her fingers as it always had, smooth, soft, silky. How could he be here, right here, and be gone?
A keening cry fell from her lips; it was him. Impossibly. She cupped his cheek. The same. He was here, but he was gone.
She needed him, she needed him and here he was, lifeless before her.
“Wake up,” she whispered. "Please..."
“Hermione, come on, let's go sit down-” someone grabbed at her arm, pulled.
“No, leave me alone!" she cried, her hands cradling the porcelain face below her.
"Hermione, people are getting upset-"
“I’m here," she breathed to her beloved, her tears falling upon his chest, ignoring the murmurs directly behind her. She had eyes for no one else. "I’m here. Come back to me. Please, please come back. Don’t do this, don’t do this to me!”
Her tears overwhelmed her, she couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. She was on the edge of hysteria, she knew, but she had no will to bring herself back because here, here, there was a chance. He was here, in her arms, cold, stiff, unrelenting. He had been so in the beginning, but she had broken him, he had finally become the man he was meant to be and now he'd been taken away before he could show the world...
“Hermione, come on, let's go back home.”
“No,” she whispered, her entire body shaking. “No, go away. Go away.”
His hands were on her shoulders. “Hermione, he’s gone. You have to let him go.”
“Stop lying to me," she croaked. "Stop lying, don’t lie to me.”
He pulled her back again and she screamed in misery, wrenching away, but there were more, more people pulling, pulling her away from the one true thing in her life. Arms wrapped around her as her knees buckled.
“Shh, it’s alright,” Harry's voice rumbled beneath her cheek.
“It’s not," she sobbed. "It's not alright, it’s not! It’s never going to be! He’s gone, he's gone, oh gods!”
Harry clutched her tightly, holding her, saving her from herself while Ron leaned his forehead against her back.
Hermione watched as Remus Levitated the lid back on, repaired the picture, replaced it over Draco's final resting place. She stared at his face one last time, her heart irreparably shattered.
“I love you,” she whispered, gazing into grey eyes and both of the boys stiffened.
Harry bent and hefted her her legs into his arms, cradling her to his chest, Ron grabbing his arm. Wordlessly, he turned on the spot and they tore her away from the love of her life.

When all the tragedy fades away
Only the ash and the spark remain
We live and die by the choice we made

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Hermione rolled over in her bed, taking the sheets with her. The bright moon was barely visible behind sheets of white falling silently through the window of the bedroom she still shared with Ginny. She hadn’t taken her Sleeping Draught again. Molly would be angry but she didn’t care. She was tired of it, tired of being drugged. She’d been so for weeks now. She was done.
“Hermione?”
She looked over at Ginny whose eyes were wide, hugging her comforter.
“Yes?”
Ginny propped herself up on an elbow. “Why haven’t you been taking the potions?”
Hermione sighed, apparently her insomnia had not gone without notice. “I don’t want to take anymore potions, Gin. It’s been long enough. I have to start dealing with this on my own.”
Ginny nodded. “Fred told me about before the funeral," she said softly, as if worried about upsetting her. "How you thought he hadn't chosen you..."
“He didn't. I begged him to come here, to stay with me... But he told me everything we had shared had been a lie, said cruel things, pushed me away..."
Ginny’s eyebrow wrinkled in confusion. “How did he do that? He seemed pretty damn in love when he tucked you in that night.”
Hermione raised herself on her own elbow, freeing her other ear to be sure she heard correctly.
“What night?”
“The night before the battle. Remember? I figured you snuck out to be with him and fell asleep. He brought you back, tucked you in and everything. Didn’t you wonder why you woke up in bed?”
Her breath fell short. “Ginny, I never left my bed that night. I didn’t see Draco after we got back until the day of the battle when he gave me the Polyjuice Potion...”
“What are you talking about? I watched him bring you in. He was kneeling right there,” she pointed to the floor in front of Hermione’s bed. “He said...well…”
Hermione shot up, staring at her friend in disbelief. “What? What did he say?”
She looked embarrassed. "'I’ll always be with you.'"
Hermione shook her head, her heart clenching. “Ginny, he never-”
Hermione suddenly felt as though she had been socked in the stomach, her head spinning, a roaring headache squeezing at her temples. Then, in a rush, everything came back, every scene of their last night, their lovemaking, the dinner, their confessions. Hermione gasped from the brutal force of it, clutching for her bedside table as she tumbled to the floor.
“Hermione! Hermione, what’s wrong? I’m getting mum, I’ll be-”
“No, no, I’m fine. Oh gods, Ginny,” Hermione grabbed her friend’s arm and looked up at her. “I remember. He drugged me, he drugged me so I wouldn’t remember, so that when I went to battle I would just think, oh gods!”
Hermione grabbed her stomach and nearly cried out. Her period had come and gone. There was no child. Never in her life had she wanted a baby young, but she was saddened to think she might have had one of Draco’s. She might have been able to keep a piece of him...
“He had thought I was pregnant. He came to stop me from going, but I wouldn’t listen to him. Baby or not, I was going to do it.”
“Hermione, are you?” Ginny’s eyes were round as dinner plates.
“No,” she said sadly, still clutching her belly. She allowed Ginny to help her back into bed and they sat there together, Ginny watching her carefully.
“Hermione?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you tell me about him? About how it all happened?”
Hermione almost said no, it would be too hard. But a part of her wanted to, wanted to relive the short life she and Draco had shared together. So she patted the bed beside her and Ginny crawled under the covers, the two girls laid down facing each other.
“Well, at first it was like normal. He hated me, I hated him, we were bickering constantly. The first kind of turnaround was probably when I tried to rescue him from the gallows.”
“Tell me about that! It sounds so exciting!”
Hermione laughed for the first time since that last night she had shared with Draco, remembering her foolish attempt to weild a sword.
“It was. Well, I told him that we couldn’t Apparate to London since we didn't know the area but the prat stole the Time Turner and decided to do it anyway. So the imbecile ends up landing on some poor old man's dining room table and gets himself arrested…”
Hermione talked and talked. She told Ginny everything, sparing her the most intimate details, of course. They laughed, they sighed, they cried. When the tale drew to a close Hermione turned to look at Ginny who was sound asleep.
Hermione glanced at the apple sitting on her bedside table, the necklace draped over it, the Eripio stone beside it. Closing her eyes she sent her goodnight wishes to Draco and finally drifted off to sleep, a plan already formulating in her ever busy mind.

In another lifetime
In some forgotten dream
In another lifetime
Maybe it was meant to be

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
A/N: Lyrics from "In Another Lifetime" by Zoe Sky Jordan (an incredibly beautiful song, you should check it out) I do not own this material nor do I make money by posting it here.

XOXO
RynStar15
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Breaking the Chain