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Redemption by xxxMagicx13

Format: One-shot
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 2,403

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Mild Language, Strong Violence, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme

Genres: Horror/Dark, Romance, Angst
Characters: Hermione, Lucius, Draco
Pairings: Draco/Hermione

First Published: 08/11/2007
Last Chapter: 09/04/2007
Last Updated: 09/04/2007

banner by anansi at pandoras closet!

The vision of her mangled corpse was still fresh in his eyes. The sight was enough to curdle anyone’s blood. How could such a fragile girl turn into a vision straight our of a horror film?

Chapter 1: Redemption
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Is it my conscience making my heart beat?
-Drop Dead, Gorgeous


It could have never ended. It could have ended a minute ago. It could have ended a year ago. He couldn’t tell. Time didn’t exist to him anymore. Time would never exist to him again. He didn’t want time to ever come back into his life. With time comes thinking and with thinking came reminiscences and with reminiscences came things he would on no account recollect ever again.

He ran a pale sallow hand over his dull eyes. There was no wetness anymore. The tears had come and go and he could cry no longer. There were no tears left to fall, nothing left to feel for. Instead, his frosty eyes were cold and full of anguish and repugnance. Never before had he felt so alone and so vacant.

Gradually, anxious that if he moved to soon he would welcome back a fresh wave of sorrow, he moved his blood tainted head so it rested in his own shoulders nook. He sniffed and almost lost his stomach as he smelled her aroma that still lingered there, even if it was subdued by the strong odor of his own blood. His chest convulsed sadistically as he let himself reflect on her. The pain was almost excruciating to bear any longer.

With great effort he rolled off his bloodied sheets and put his hands towards the sky and bellowed. He yelled until his voice was hoarse and strangled. The reality of it all was so gruesome he couldn’t close his eyes or ever dream for every truth would flood into him once more. He had labored so hard to drain himself of ever remembering once more.


A head of bushy auburn hair bounded towards him from the other side of the room. He smirked his brash smile and welcomed her into his arms, his sleek blond locks falling over her shoulders as he smothered her with kisses.

She giggled and pulled his silk sheets over their naked bodies. She too, kissed him, first on his décolletage then on his jaw line and finally landing ardently on his lips. She could sense their bodies yearning for one another’s as they had so many times before.

"I love you Hermione." he whispered into her skin, his voice full of lust.

"I love you too, Draco." 


"No! No! NO!" his voice pulsed with a longing and desire that was forever lost. He hated remembering but his memoirs were as unsullied as they had ever been.

Ferociously, he flung his body onto the stone floor. His bare chest grazed the spot where her body lay last. He didn’t know how long ago. It could have been five minutes ago. It could have been a century ago. He cackled callously, the feeling of it smoldering the back of his throat. Time didn’t exist for Draco Malfoy anymore.

His breathing became staggered with the chilled touch of the hard ground. It was almost as if her body was still next to his and Lucius had not found them together at all. Comprehension had already hit him hard, like an iron fist, but Draco sustained to will himself to forget.

The iron fist would always come back, each time harder then the last.

Small beads of sweat formed an ornate embellishment along the lengthy form of his body. His muscles were flexed and were clearly showing. Draco could not control what his limbs were doing. It seemed as if his muscles would never unwind again, as if the were permanently strained so he would not feel the intense pain that was already present.

He coughed brutally and lifted his eyes to look at the wall opposite to his body. A bulky splinter had formed in his bedroom wall where her body had slammed. Just looking onto the scene where the woman he loved lost her life caused vomit to pool out of his lips and onto the marble ground.

Draco coughed and choked up the insides of his stomach. It all tasted incongruously of blood and the previous nights dinner. His shaking fingers smeared the remnants on his mouth before he looked up at the wall once more.

Draco wrenched his body up and sauntered to the wall. His fingers trembled as he ran his palm over the fracture in the barrier. He stopped at a more prudent crack where two lonely strands of her hair sat, unwillingly blowing in a nonexistent breeze. Before he could pull the hairs free, before he could stop himself, a fresh wave of tears cascaded over his cold cheeks.


Her slow breathing tickled his left arm. She was inhaling and exhaling slowly, still sleeping, still tired from the night before. His eyes danced across the ceiling above him, a discomfited grin creeping onto his face and an abnormal glimmer in his eyes.

He was welcoming an awkward feeling into his heart. It had not been the first time they had each other. It had been the first time they voiced how much they cared for one another. Draco, having on no account felt this kind of swelling in his abdomen, sighed and puffed out his chest, letting his heart ache with adoration.

His muscular arm was wrapped around Hermione’s back, his other propping his head up on his pillow. His gaze pursued the delicate curve of her body, appreciating her subtle exquisiteness and taking in every crevice and twist so he could never lose his memories of her.

The body he held onto moved slightly, but still very gracefully, and its head turned to look up into his pale eyes. "Good morning Draco." Hermione smiled softly up at the man that held her so possessively. 


All too soon, a ghastly swelling occurred in the pit of his chest and he moaned cruelly to rid himself of the acidic feeling. It was him being on the verge of crying out again, but he had no more voice to cry out with. He had lost that luxury hours before.

Why was he holding onto her?

It was more like, how could he not hold onto her?

Hermione was supposed to be the one. Hermione Granger, the woman with the unruly curls and the glistening brown eyes, was supposed to his life long partner, no matter the danger it posed them both. Hermione Jean Granger had the only voice Draco wanted to hear again. It was weak but held a certain power that could make his knees buckle. She was stern and still caring, always desirable.

Draco had risked his life for this woman and somehow he was the one still alive, still breathing and experiencing moments of life. Hermione had been his angel, his only sanctuary to feeling real rather then like a marionette of the dark side. Now that she was forever gone, every thing he did reminded him of her. The simple things like breathing turned his horrid thoughts back to her body.

The vision of her mangled corpse was still fresh in his eyes. The sight was enough to curdle anyone’s blood. How could such a fragile girl turn into a vision straight our of a horror film? Draco could dictate the exact placement of her broken arms and dislocated knees, how her neck was turned in the complete wrong direction. He swore that her cry was still echoing around his room.


He dared to glance upward. He already knew what he would find when he did. He knew it was over before a word was even said. The look in his fathers eyes was enough to tell him that much. Draco’s cold grey pupils looked up into the black fires of the man who raised him, the man who once cared for him, to see antipathy lingering there.

It was over before it even started.

Lucius had his wand drawn before anyone else had a chance to counter. Hermione's body had just enough time to tense next to him. The black wood was directed at the woman next to him a jet of radiance beamed from its end. Draco didn’t need to look to know what color it was.

A terrorizing scream emitted from the form next to him. Her body twitched and slithered brutally within the silk sheets, twisting them perilously around her. Her head dropped onto the pillow, her back arching slightly as if she tried to bend away the pain. Her limbs flared and her screaming was bloodcurdling.

Draco thought it would never end.

It was all Draco could do to watch. He knew he could not discontinue her pain. He knew he had no power over the man who caused the woman he loved so much horror. His eyes glazed over as his pallid eyes peered onto the macabre view. His hands balled into fists as his body became hard as stone.

"Stop it! STOP! Stop this right now!" the younger blond yelled powerlessly to his father as he reached transversely over his bed, placing a strapping arm over his love. His endeavor was futile and he found himself bawling without any coherence to his words.

Apparent tears streamed over his pasty skin. 


“I…I...,” Draco was murmuring incoherently, shaking his head back and forth as if trying to convey sagacity of his thoughts.

Over and over he told himself he was liable for Hermione’s death. His eyes seared with pain as he recounted her spine-crawling cries and could not bring himself to blame anyone else.

Yes, his father had tortured the girl until he heart stopped beating. No, Lucius had not taken time to think what effects the tormenting of the girl his son loved might have on his child. Draco Malfoy’s father was the end off Hermione Granger, and yet, Draco could not feel more guilt ridden and heart broken.

Draco had played right into his fathers hands. It was a peril to even glimpse at a Mudblood let alone articulate to one. Draco had gone in for the kill and made her his true love. It was against everything he was ever raised to believe.

Nevertheless, the sole heir to the Malfoy throne could not relate to the detestation and segregation of the Pureblood life. As much as his cunning mind liked to tell him, he never felt the need to isolate those dissimilar from himself. In truth, Draco was had been looking for an outlet from his familiar world of odium.

Hermione had been his outlet.

She introduced him to a place were he did not need to fear for his life. The people and places were candid, tolerant, and did not harbor rancor.

The feelings had been foreign at first. He was less then willing to tolerate them into his life. Amiably, he shoved them away and resorted to the hollow hole where the Dark Lord regulated his every move, where he was unwelcome to think for himself. He opted for the place that held no future for him.

Hermione had been patient. She slowly helped him from the hole, allowing him to gradually crawl into the world were she lived liberated, free, and acknowledged.


Subsequently, his father didn’t bother with his wand. Lucius had used his cane and thrashed Draco until his once blond hair was blemished scarlet from the tepid blood seeping from his skull. His fathers’ actions were brash, but not alien. They were, of course, expected.

Every strike brought searing pain into his body. It was like a wave washing onto the shore, repeating over and over until it became a uniform movement. The young man became so accustomed to its feeling; it was unfamiliar when it ended.

His father looked at his scared body, but no remorse shown within his eyes. Draco knew his father would never repent the injuries he inflicted on his son. In his mind, Draco knew he had gotten what he warranted and the mudblood died as she deserved.

Without another look at his son, Lucius stalked from his bed chamber, letting his steel toed boot hit Draco square on the forehead before the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding bang.

Draco didn’t care. He could not feel the pain anyway. He was numb and like it better that way. He did not even feel his black and blue skin. He had stopped feeling much longer ago. 



Draco was spluttering inarticulately, moving his head without knowing he was. It was like he tried making sense of his horrible past, maybe even release himself from it. His coarse palms shakily grazed his cheeks. He could feel the dry tears and the hollowness in his skin.

A single question was penetrating his brain, making him itch just trying to formulate its answer.

Will she ever forgive me?

Draco did not know if Hermione held him accountable or not, but he knew that he was the true cause of her death. He pulled her into his life, exposing her to the hazard of his family and the wickedness they were known for.



“It’s useless!” he exclaimed, tugging on his crimson stained hair. His voice was raucous and gruff from his crying and yelling. His body was dilapidated and his breathing haggard. He would not be this way if it wasn’t for time.

Slowly, he lowered his body onto the cold floor. Its chill made an uncomfortable burn on his back, but he overlooked it. He pressed his palms to the ground and closed his eyes, for what he knew was the last time.

Will she ever forgive me?


Authors Note:Thank you for reading. This is just a story i had floating in my mind for quite some time and i needed to get it out! its not great, but i would be happy if you reviewed!!