Dark Love

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  • Rating:
  • Published: 15 Jul 2014
  • Updated: 29 Dec 2014
  • Status: Complete
Did You-Know-Who really die? Or, did he fake it, plotting the biggest war the world, Muggle or Witch/wizard has ever known?

Dramione ship.


8. Hermione POV

I bite my lip nervously, listening to the cruel laughs and screams of pain above me. I know that scream. Somewhere, in the depths of my brain, I recognize that scream. The next scream almost sends one though my own lips.

I know that scream.

It belongs to Draco Malfoy.

No, no, no. Voldemort can do whatever he wants to me, but not to him! Draco... He's always been, well, weaker than me. He can bend under the slightest pressure or pain. Who knows what Voldemort has planned for him?

On Draco's next scream, I scream as well, in a different form of agony, our two voices blending into a perfect harmony. I grasp the edges of the magically-reinforced steel bars, looking for a way out, if only I had my wand-

"What do ya think ya doin' there, missus?"

I swivel and see the head of Goyle staring at me. "Goyle. Look, the love of my life is being tortured by your so-called kind and loyal master, and-and-a-a..." Unable to finish my thought, I collapse in a heap on the ground, the tears finally overcoming me, my hands clutched to my stomach, as if sick, and I was, in a way. Sick of this. Sick of myself. If only I told Voldemort what he wanted, Draco wouldn't be up there now, having God knows what done to him.

"Aw, missus, I'm sorry."

"Don't pretend you care." I snap, suddenly angry.

"I'm not pretending, missus. I care also. Come here." I finch at Goyle's kindness, but answer to his beckoning. He puts his hands through the bars, silent tears streaming down his face as well, and grasps mine. We sit there like that for a long time, hands intertwined through the bars, tears running down our faces, listening to the screams above.

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