Disclaimer: I own nothing
Redemption To The Deserving
The obsession was growing. How had she let it get this tangled? This would utterly destroy her friendships, and she could do nothing to stop it...She was addicted.
Hermione Granger was seated on her bed, in her decrepit room, trapped at Grimmauld Place once more. This is how it was to be, there would come no end to this depressing lifestyle. She had turned every page of the rotting books, cleaned every inch of the God-forsaken house, and realization had hit that there was no Hogwarts to go back to. It tore her up inside with grief. How she missed those days. Who knew that four years later, her life would be flipped upside down, by the someone that demolished the school from the inside out, and who she wished she could despise.
Every ounce of her soul's power was not enough to fight him off. It seemed that he was attacking her with no mercy. She could not see anything, touch anything, want anything, unless it was him.
This deadly obsession had started in her seventh year, at her beloved school. The potions teacher, Professor Slughorn, was found dead in his chambers, on a mid-September night. There was no blood, no wounds, no signs of the cause, what-so-ever, on his limp form. This left the only possible answer to be that Avada Kedavra was administered on the poor man. The culprit was never found.
The call for a new instructor swept through the magical communities of the Wizarding World. This was an ordeal that added great stress to the newly appointed Headmistress McGonagall. How the school was falling apart at its seams after Dumbledore's death was faltering.
After about a month of searching for a potions master, the school finally obtained one. Hermione's nightmare started on that cloudy morning in the dungeons, as the door to the classroom opened.
He walked in with an air of superiority, sneering at her for her lack of clean blood. The school must have been mental to let him teach. This man was the most deceitful, conniving and manipulative creature to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts...other then Voldemort, that is.
He had brought with him the corruption of the school, and death to many that did not deserve it. The war was immense, and as he and his lord had planned, the dark side prevailed.
Hermione had lost the love of her life that day. Ron was slaughtered as she watched from the strangling arms of this other man.
How she could never forgive him! How she could never forget him...
It slipped from her lips in a forbidden whisper. A single tear rolled down her delicate cheek, and impaled the dusty bedding she poised atop. Hermione couldn't take it any longer.
Reaching for her cloak, she headed for the entrance. She had to get out. With a rush of wind, from beyond the door, she closed it behind her and ran into the night.
She had to escape.
How she craved him, and his touch, yet she would never love him. It had been to long, and now she realized she was about to blur the lines of good and evil. She could never go back. She would wander alone, with only her thoughts as company, until she found what she was searching for.
Days came and went. The sun rose in the morning and fell in the night. She traveled far and wide, finally coming to a stop in the small wizarding town of Hawk Hill. This place was known to many as the anti-Godric's Hollow. Raising her hood, Hermione decided a visit to the pub was called for. If she was to find him, this would be the town.
Stomping her feet on the mat outside, Hermione pushed the rickety door aside and entered the drinking place. Its appearance from the exterior did not serve it justice. This pub was absolutely stunning. Columns of dark stained mahogany held the room. Black, velvet stools and empty goblets laced the enormous bar; this had to be a popular spot. Strolling over to a barstool close to the raging fire, Hermione perched.
“What'll it be fer ya Miss?” The busy bartender called.
“Fire Whiskey, straight up, if you please.”
The bartender turned from what he had been doing and gazed at the hooded woman. “Are ya sure ya want ta do that, now, Missy? That, there, is the strongest drink in these, here, parts. It could blow the spikes off a dragon, ya know.”
She didn't have time for this. “Just give me the God-damned drink!” She wanted it strong, why else would she ask for it to be presented that way, for show?!
With a bow, the tender backed away and gathered her request. The tall glass of liquid slide down the wood plank she was seated at, and she snatched it with vigor.
Her soul was empty. All she wanted to do was release the tension growing inside of her body. Looking at the full drink for a mere second, Hermione downed it in a few gulps. It burned, she had expected this, it was what she wanted. She needed the painful sensation to rip though her throat to show her that she could still feel; that she was still alive.
Slamming the goblet down, she let out a sign of relief, she could feel its effects immediately. The Irish hillbilly behind the bar looked at her with shock and admiration. The troubled woman portrayed no sign of discomfort or pain from the spicy liquor.
“I seem ta have underestimated ya, Lass.”
“Many people do.” She replied bitterly.
She had sat on that stool for near two hours, now. The ability to bring herself to go back into the icy wind had abandoned her altogether. She just sat there, staring at the flames in the hearth. Hermione just wanted a chance to find what she came for, was that so hard?
Not a second after that thought entered her mind, did the door pound open. She gasped. Her chance had come.
Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway, surveying the occupants of the room as if rating their worthiness to be in his presents. Waltzing to a table, the pompous gentleman removed his cloak and seated himself. The squeaks of chair legs as they slide back, the ruffling of cloaks, and the hurried footsteps towards the exit around Hermione, depicted just how much this one man was feared. Now the time had come.
Pulling her hood further down to cover her eyes, the departed third of the 'Golden Trio' stepped from her stool. Thanking the man beyond the bar, she turned and advanced on the power-hungry Malfoy.
He had been indulging in his beverage of choice and reading the recent edition of the 'Daily Prophet', when the witch made herself known.
“Well, well. If it isn't Lucius Malfoy.” She drawled in a sarcastic tone.
Lucius's concentration had been broken, and he was severely perturbed about it. No one in their right mind had ever dared him to become angry. This person would find out why. Looking away from his newspaper, he glared toward the hooded figure. The person's eyes was indistinguishable beyond the black shadow produced by the cloak. It was no matter, He would still serve them a piece of his mind.
“May I help you, in some way?” He asked, with no intention of providing assistance to the person, in the least.
A smirk crept onto the girls face, her confidence boosting by the second. “Oh, I think you can...Professor.”
Lucius's arrogant stare faltered, yet he outwardly recomposed himself instantly. This person had known him from the days he spent teaching. That voice...he knew that voice. All he needed now was the face. “Am I correct in assuming you are a formal pupil?”
“Don't switch the topic, Malfoy!” It was a harsh snap, that he did not expect. “You and I are going to have a talk.”
He laughed heartily. How was this small figure going to make him do anything. Who were they to give him orders. “What makes you think I will obey you, you're pitiful.”
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” She grinned maliciously. “Now follow me, please.”
The elder Malfoy furrowed his brow. This individual had intrigued him, and that alone was not an easy feat to accomplish. Smirking softly, He rose. He wanted to know where all of this would lead him.
She had done it. Hermione had lured him to her, now to complete the task at hand. Walking to the back of the pub to a spare room, she instructed him inside, and closed the door behind her. As he situated himself in a plush chair, Hermione lifted her hood. His silver eyes snapped up to her cinnamon irises, once revealed, his expression unreadable.
Slowly pacing towards Lucius, she spoke. “Now, done to business.”
Malfoy grinned at her hunger for control, and sat back ready for the speech that was lingering on her lips.
“You disgust me, that fact is globally know.” She spat randomly. “What you do is overly barbaric and I honestly hope you rot in Azkaban for it. I know what you are, everyone does, a filthy Death Eater.” The thoughts that she had piled in her mind were now leaking through her clenched teeth, like free-flowing water. “You have made my life hell for eleven years now, and whether you accept it or not, that hell is going to end.”
“Dear Miss Granger.” Lucius addressed her conceitedly. “Do you plan on trying to do me in? If so, I think I shall be leaving. This little joke has carried on long enough.” He made to stand up when something pointed prodded into him.
Hermione was now brandishing her wand, at his stomach. He would stay and listen to what she had to say, that she would make sure of. Motioning for him to reclaim his seat, she continued once he was settled. “Malfoy's, you're all alike, thinking you're superior enough to walk with the Gods. It's time to come back down to Earth, Lucius. This is no joke.” She retracted her wand and began to pace, slowly. “I have come here to tell you the truth. The deepest, darkest secret in my loins. This information will ruin me to the people I love, and alienate me from stopping the dark side.”
He raised a blond eyebrow and cocked his head. Perhaps this was worth staying put to listen to.
Turning to face him sharply, she said it. “You captivate me, Lucius Malfoy! I detest your every movement, yet this addiction will not cease. I can't stop thinking about you, I hate you! My body is betraying me into feeling things I should never even dream of. You've succeeded...I am corrupt. The Golden Trio lives no more.”
He was speechless. Was he suppose to laugh for her naivety, or congratulate her upon leaving her safety net. This could only mean a stronger advantage for his Lord...But there was something else, brewing deep inside of him, something he had locked away for many years. Trying not to acknowledge it he responded to the unsteady witch. “Know we know the true weakness of the cleverest witch in this century. Congratulations Miss Granger, you have just contributed to further destruction of the light side.” The feeling in his body rushed back to him, he couldn't stop it. Don't show! Not now! It was to late.
Lucius, pushing himself from the chair, stood violently, sending the furnishing back into the wall. Stocking forward, he latched onto Hermione's small wrists and pulled her to him.
He kissed her.
It wasn't, by any means, gentle. It was rough, hungry, and controlling, just as he, himself, was.
Hermione was extremely taken aback. What had become of her? All thoughts were lost as she began to respond to the hot mouth against hers. She felt alive again. For the first time since the side of dark had prevailed, she was alive...yet it would never last.
Lucius ended her angelic sensations, with one quick step. He had not removed his mouth from hers, he had not terminated the connection they shared. He had done worse.
Hermione screamed and stumbled back, searing pain have developed in her abdomen. Looking down she began to panic, blood was all over the front of her robes. A knife, with a serpent encrusted handle, was protruding from her center...he had stabbed her. She looked up at him as she sank to the floor. There was no grin, no smirk, no nothing across his features, he was blank. Laying on the floor she began to breathe shallowly, everything was unfocused and faint.
Lucius wasn't sure what he felt at that moment. Had he done the right thing? Was this what he wanted? Kneeling down beside her, he drew a deep steady breath. He had no emotion left in his soul.
With every last ounce of strength and energy, Hermione reached out and took his hand. “I just wanted you to know, Lucius.” A weak smile graced he face.
He looked intensely into her eyes. She was fading fast, only seconds could be left of her life.
“You've set me free, the weight has been lifted.”
Everything became black. Hermione's life was taken from her, by his own hand. His heart was now even harder, and colder, then it had ever been, before. He was lost, and confused. He was sure this would end it, the feelings he had. But it was no use, Lucius couldn't go on with out her...He was addicted.
A/N: So? What do you think? I was stuck at home a few days ago without a car, so I sat down and wrote this. This story isn't meant to be anything special, just an idea that came randomly. Please read & review. Yo have no idea how great and helpful it is to receive feedback (critical or not). Enjoy!