The most dreadful thing about Draco Malfoy was his ability to make you melt with a single gaze. It was ironic if you considered the fact that his cold grey eyes were icy and piercing when they glared at you, yet soft and kind whenever he felt weak. Weakness wasn't a feeling Draco experienced often. He kept up a cold, heartless front that many women felt themselves falling for. The appearance mirrored itself on the inside; Draco often felt his ego growing as he was put in higher positions of power, which was happening frequently now that the war had been won by the right side. His side. The thought usually made a sly smirk slide onto his lips; now, though, as he gazed at the shattered remains of Hermione Granger, things were different.
She was his sole weakness. The one thing that make him shrivel up and hope for the day he could crawl up in a corner and never emerge. The thought in itself was ridiculous. Draco Abraxas Malfoy, heir to Lucius and servant of the great Lord Voldemort, was weak at the knees for Hermione Jean Granger. He was a pathetic fool but couldn't shake the idea out of his head. He had a wife, Astoria, and was as loyal to her as ever. His daily visits to the holding cell where Hermione was kept, though, had proven to be his favourite part of the day.
Today was a frozen winter day, the outside of the manor covered in a white blanket of snow that only grew as more white flakes drifted down from the sky.
His icy gaze rested on the curled up figure of Hermione as he towered over her from his spot leaning against the wall of her cell in the basement of Malfoy Manor. She'd been awful today, having the sheer nerve to ignore the command he'd given. It was so simple, one thing he knew she was capable of. The one thing he wanted most from her.
Her tear-streaked face turned slightly, empty eyes staring brokenly up at his dirt-ridden face. She'd put up a fight and now it was time to deal with the consequences. Shaking limbs, a tangled head of bushy brown hair and eyes that met his and elicited the tiniest, quietests of inaudible gasps from his lips. The lips that could have been on hers in an instant if only she'd complied.
He wasn’t strong enough to do this.
There was Astoria to think about, and their future child that was most definitely his
. He had no doubts, considering the fact that she’d be treated like a house elf if she dared cheat on him, which also caused problems if you considered the fact that Draco felt no sort of affection for his wife.
How strange was it that he could feel absolutely nothing but emptiness for his wife, yet nothing short of compassion for the woman who’d been his sworn enemy during their school years? His cool grey eyes flickered over Hermione’s bent-over figure and he gulped; his nerves were acting up to the point where his hands were shaking and sweat was probably dripping off his face.
He didn’t want to do what was expected of him. If anyone were to find out about the situation and knew that he hadn’t followed the proper protocol in this situation, though, he’d be sent to Azkaban - even if he was nearly second-in-command to the Dark Lord. The speed of his breaths increased and Hermione seemed to notice this; her head lifted up slightly and brown eyes met grey.
That sure didn’t help his ever-increasing heart rate.
It had to be done. No matter how badly the pain would hurt in the future, Draco knew what was expected of him. He cared about his family and Astoria and didn’t want their lives to be risked because of some stupid childhood crush that this was. Even if it killed him, Draco had a reputation to live up to. He had a family, and would have a child; life would eventually move on. It always did.
Still shaking, he raised his wand hand and muttered the two words that would take the light out of her warm chocolate eyes. “Avada Kedavra.” Draco watched as a jet of green light spat out of his wand; the light was drained out of Hermione in an instant. The blond did his best to keep calm and collected but as he knelt down by Hermione’s corpse, a single tear dripped down his cheek. “You’re my secret. Always have been, always will...” His words were a barely audible murmur against the sound of his heavy breaths.
Later that winter day, Draco buried Hermione. He chose a spot near a willow tree because he knew those had been her favourite when life had coursed through her veins. And then she was gone, like the snow would be in a few weeks’ time, just a memory that faded away with the seasons.
In a sense, Draco felt freer. He no longer had to worry about keeping his deepest secret away from Astoria, and Hermione was not there to taunt him about what could have been his - if only he’d chosen the right side. That was all Hermione Jean Granger was. A secret from his past that had been easily erased.
And Draco hadn’t regretted a decision more in his entire twenty-four years of life.
A/N: Thanks if you've stuck around this long! I've never written anything like this before; I usually stick to humor and romance, and of course roleplay posts, so writing angst was definitely something different. This was written as a birthday present to Vee (VeeKAY on tda) whose birthday was on the 14th so I hope she had a lovely day and enjoyed this story! Reviews are also appreciated, as always, too. :) Lastly, please ignore the coding issues that have arisen. I can't seem to figure out the spacing any so I'm just going to ignore for now!