Alright, so I've written a few stories(a couple of those are fanfiction) and I felt like posting them. I guess I'll start out with 3 of them(they're kind of long, so I may have to double post.. ) Anyway. Heres the first, its called The Window and its a Harry Potter fanfiction(I would tell you the couple involved, but it would ruin the ending). Its a one shot and not too long, so here goes:

She stood in the only window in the hallway empty of glass. Holding the frame with white knuckles she leaned out, enjoying the breeze on her face. Her robes blew around her, making her image appear sinister. Hundreds of feet below her, the land stretched out for miles, interrupted only by the forest and lake around the castle. If there were no other reason, she would come just for the view. She took a deep breath, smelling the air around the castle that always seemed to make her feel at home.
She came here as often as she could, given her heavy class schedule. She loved it here. Sometimes she came to study, as the library was too noisy for her when all the students were in therealso trying to study. Everyone assumed she was in her room studying, but really, she was here, reading the books she knew by heart in the moonlight. It was easy to sneak away, the only ones who truly cared where she went were Ron and Harry, but they were always too preoccupied by Quidditch to truly notice if she were gone longer than normal for studying. Besides, they regarded studying and homework as something to be avoided like a plague. At the mere mention of reading a school associated book, they made themselves scarce.
She never worried that anyone would walk in on her, the hallway was always empty, as it led to the entrance of a tower, whose door remained locked. Thus, there was no reason for any other to intrude on her privacy. She was blissfully unaware of the person who had followed her here countless times before.
He stood at the end of the hall, just around the corner. He had stood in this very place many times before, simply observing her. He had noticed months before that she would disappear at odd times. He had looked for her in the library and had asked about her in the common room, but upon finding her missing, he started to search for her.
It took him a few weeks to find the corridor she found refuge in, but once he did, he loved to sit and watch her study or stand in the window, as she was now. He loved to watch her. Loved to see her as she leaned out and inhaled deeply. He loved the peaceful look on her face as the air entered her body. He loved the way her hair was whipped about her face by the breeze. He adored the way the wind sometimes drew her robes tight around her body, outlining every curve. He knew this place relaxed her. He could tell in her stance, in the way her entire body seemed to go with the wind, instead of holding against it, rigid. He hoped her being relaxed would help his cause. He had finally gathered the courage to tell her. It was now or never, he had decided.

He stepped forward, sure the pounding of his heart must be echoing off the walls of the bare hallway. As he got closer, he could see her smile. He stopped, content to simply watch her smile. He could gaze at her for eternity. He wanted her to be his, he realized. He started walking again, careful to go slow and keep his footsteps soft. He was behind her now, unsure of how he should begin. He breathed in, smelling her fragrance. She always smelled so good. The smell of honey had always reminded him of her.
At a loss as to what to say, he cleared his throat, not wanting his voice to come out as a croak. Hermione started, not knowing anyone was behind her, let alone in the same hallway as she. She started to turn, but lost her footing. She cried out, realizing she was going to fall, and reached out, grabbing at the air. She started to fall forward, unable to save herself. He reached out and pulled her off the window ledge, into his arms, to safety. He cradled her, telling her he was sorry for scaring her. She looked up into his eyes, startled by who she saw.
Hearing her gasp, he glanced down at her parted lips, getting the urge for the millionth time to kiss her. Unlike the previous times, he acted on the urge. He brought his hand up to bury it in her hair, loving the soft feel of it. The moment their lips met it was as if the castle were burning and they were trapped in the flames. Her lips were soft, he noted, molding to his perfectly. Her mouth tasted like she smelled, like honey. She brought her hand to his chest, intending to stop him, but instead left it there, feeling his heart beat wildly underneath her hand. His kiss was gentle, not wanting to push her too much. He went slow, unlike Ron, who always rushed things, she thought.
Ron doesn't deserve this, he thought, this is mine alone, she is mine, not Ron's. Abruptly it was ended by Hermione finally finding the strength to pull away from his kiss. He looked her in the eyes, confused.
"I...I can't," she stuttered, "I'm sorry."
"Why not?" he whispered in her ear, as he was still holding her.
She looked away, as if unsure of her reasons. Finally, she looked him in the eye.
"There's Ron...I...I can't do this to him. It would kill him."
"Ron can piss off for all I care," he said.
"No...It would never work," she muttered. Tears began to gather in her eyes, blurring her vision of his face.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't intend to hurt you," she said, chin quivering. And with that, she pushed herself out of his embrace, turned, and ran down the hall, barely remembering to grab her bag on her way out.

He watched her go, feeling oddly cold inside, watched her scurry around the corner, her hair flying around her head, her robes billowing behind her. When she was finally gone from view, he stood there watching the place she had been for a few moments, then turned away, unable to look any more. It was then that he realized he hadn't said the one thing he had promised himself he would.
"I love you," he said, the words sounding loud and broken in the deserted hall. They bounced off the wall and seemed to come back to him and break his heart. Fred Weasley sank to the floor, sitting against the wall, and buried his head in his hands, his face the very vision of regret.
Thats the first. I'll post the other fanfiction I've written in the next post. Yeah, the one below this one..

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I will take my place in the great below.

Alright, heres the second. It's called Proving His Worth and its a Draco/Hermione story. The title will make sense at the end(even though you may think you know what it means before that). I'd also like to note that this one was meant to be a chaptered fic, which is why there are numbers. Anyway, enjoy:


1
She sat across from him in the hall, speaking with her annoyingly popular friends. The “Golden Trio” they were called. He snorted in disgust as he saw how everyone doted on the Boy-Who-Should-Have-Died. His attention was brought back to the Granger chit as she scolded the Weasel for something he had said. He smirked at the blood-traitor’s response, which involved him muttering something under his breath and turning bright red.

He was quickly brought back to his own table, and his own group of friends as Pansy Parkinson asked him something that he only caught the end of.
“...go last night?” she said in a stage whisper, which enabled everyone around to hear.
He turned and glared at her, wishing for at least the 50th time that morning that she would keep quiet for once.
“What was it that you just said?” he drawled, not really interested in her answer.
“I asked you how it went last night...with the meeting,” she said in a harsh whisper, glancing around at the other Slytherins as she said the word “meeting”.
“Have I not told you not to discuss these things in public? You should know the risks of such things by now,” he scolded her, thoroughly annoyed with her now, “and for your information, it went...as expected. We’ll discuss this later, when we have more privacy,” he had noticed that his classmates were beginning to lean just a bit closer, trying to hear what he was speaking about with Pansy. He looked down at his breakfast, picking up his fork, intending to continue eating.
“Draco?”
“What is it now?” he put down his fork, barely resisting rolling his eyes, but knew that if he did, she would screech at him, wondering what was wrong. She slid closer to him on the bench, which in itself was an accomplishment, considering that they were already only half a millimeter away from each other. She laid her hand on his thigh, very near his privates, looking up at him as she licked her lips.
“Can we...talk once we get back to the common room?” she whispered in his ear, adding a small kiss to his ear lobe. He just caught himself before he pushed her away. He looked down at her, smirking once more.
“We shall see, love,” and at that moment, he stood, tossing his napkin on the table, for he had seen Granger get up and gather her books, leaving Pansy, who was still sitting, looking quite satisfied with herself. He glanced at the Gryffindor table, seeing that he was lucky, the other 2/3 of the trio weren’t following her, as he had hoped. This would make his observations of her much easier, he thought as he felt relief.


“Ron! I’ve told you before to call him Professor Snape!” Hermione scolded Ron. He was forever referring to Professor Snape as a greasy git and simply would not put the Professor in front of his name, no matter how many times she reminded him.
After being scolded, Ron blushed, and muttered something that sounded a lot like “bloody greasy git, no matter that he’s a professor...”. Hermione sighed in frustration. Ron could be so thick headed sometimes, she fumed to herself as she stabbed at her eggs.
As she brought her fork to her mouth, she looked up, across the room at Malfoy. He was obviously discussing something important with that horrid Parkinson girl. She watched as Pansy got closer to Draco, and seemed to suggest something inappropriate. Hermione started to gather her things, sick of half-listening to Ron and Harry and tired of watching Draco and Pansy flirt in the middle of the hall. She walked out of the hall, telling Harry and Ron that she was going to the library, not noticing as Draco covertly followed her out of the room.

Draco watched her at a discreet distance, pretending to just be strolling along the corridor. In reality, he was keeping a sharp eye on Granger. As he watched her walk quickly toward the library, his eyes traveled up and down her body, noting that she had filled out a bit since last year. He also noticed that her hair wasn’t as bushy as it used to be. It was still far from controlled, but it was better. His grey eyes fell down to her backside, enjoying his view. It was, however, cut short as she reached the library and went inside. He waited outside for a few moments, making sure she would be settled by the time he got inside.
He stepped inside, preparing himself for the beginning of his scheme. It would take time and effort to do, but he had made a promise, and was determined to follow through. He glanced over at Madame Pince, who glared at him as she looked up from organizing the books, before wandering over near Hermione, noting what books she was reading and then went to retrieve books on the same subject, hoping to be able to start a pleasant conversation on the subject with her. Well, as pleasant as it could be between a Mudblood and a soon to be Death Eater.
Draco got the books he needed and went to find Hermione’s table once more. Having spotted her, he put his bags down on the table, pulled out the chair next to her and sat down.
“Hello, Granger. Studying up for Herbology too, I see. Care to study together?” he said with a smirk, as he never smiled. This was going to be fun, he thought.
No thoughts of failure crossed his mind, you see, because Malfoys always get what they want. And this Malfoy wanted the little brown-eyed Mudblood who was currently staring at him in confusion.
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2
Hermione looked up from her book and stared at Malfoy, who had just plopped himself into the chair beside her.
“What do you want?” she said abruptly.
“Just trying to study. I noticed you were studying for the exam in Herbology too and thought you might want some company,” he said with feigned pleasantness.
“Sorry to disappoint you Malfoy, but I don’t desire your company,” and with that she began to read again. Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, and opened his book. He noticed that she would glance at him every few moments as if to see if he had left yet, but a look of exasperation would cross her features when she saw he was still sitting next to her. Malfoy had to catch himself before he grinned in sheer pleasure. This was more pleasant than he thought it would be. She was actually kind of cute, he thought, at least now that she had had her teeth taken care of. He continued to sit there, pretending to read for 20 more minutes before he finally got up.
“Its been nice, Granger,” he said as he went to put his books back. Malfoy walked out of the library with Hermione staring in confusion after him.
What had just happened? Hermione thought to herself. She couldn’t quite believe that Malfoy was being...well, almost nice to her. Malfoy of all people, the boy who only thought of her as a Mudblood. Hermione stayed in the library for another hour, trying to do her homework, but spending more time thinking of what had happened with Malfoy to focus on it. She finally gave up and went to the common room.
“Gillimour,” she absently said to the portrait that guarded the Gryfinndor common room. She walked in, not noticing that no one was in any of the chairs, but instead gathered around Ron and Harry, who were showing some of the members of the D.A. a simple charm. She went straight to her dorm, falling into bed, but not going to sleep. She stared at the ceiling for quite some time, barely realizing when everyone finally came up to go to bed. It was far past midnight when she fell into a fitful sleep.
The next few weeks passed as normal, with the exception of Malfoy continuing to pop up at odd times, always when she was alone, and always saying a few words and then leaving after about an hour. She soon realized that Malfoy was actually following her, waiting for her to be alone so he could bother her. It was all too confusing and she started to wish she had told Ron and Harry, but she didn’t want them to do anything to Malfoy. As odd as his sudden bouts of kindness were, she sort of liked them. It was a nice change from him sneering at her constantly and making comments about her heritage.
She had started breaking away from Harry and Ron to go to the library more often, hoping that Malfoy would notice she was alone and come talk to her. It was on one of these times that she was suddenly pulled into an alcove in a near deserted hallway.
“Hello Granger,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear. The voice was low, seductive and made her shiver.
“What are you doing Malfoy?” she whispered back. She could almost feel him smirking against her hair.
“Haven’t you wondered why I’ve been following you for weeks?” he said. He then looked her in the eye, put his hand lightly on her chin, leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant kiss, and one Hermione would have liked to continue. There was just something she liked about being in a small, dark alcove with Malfoy, a boy most of the girls at the school thought was quite handsome.
“That is why I’ve been following you.” he said when he pulled away.
“To kiss me? That’s all?” she said, slightly disappointed.
“Yes, that’s all Granger. Although, I wouldn’t mind if we made this a habit,” he said with a smirk.
“I...well, I don’t know. What about Pansy? Wouldn’t she be angry? And what about Ron and Harry? You three aren’t exactly friends you know,” she said close to his ear as the alcove was small and there was just room for them, if he held her.
“They wouldn’t know. No one would accept us,” he explained to her.
“You want it to be secret? I don’t know...I’ll have to think on it,” she said as she bit her bottom lip.
“Its up to you, Granger,” he then let her go, and walked out of the alcove. He strode down the corridor as if he hadn’t just kissed someone everyone thought he despised. This was definitely going to be easier than he thought, Draco told himself. He was glad it was so. He didn’t want to spend much time on this. If it were up to him, it would be done tomorrow, but it wasn’t up to him. It was up to her, and she was currently making him wait for an answer.
Draco reached the end of the hall and turned the corner, heading towards the Slytherin common room. Once he was sure Granger wasn’t going to pop up anywhere, he reached up and wiped his hand across his lips. He could still taste her, and he didn’t like to be reminded of what had happened.
“Puddlemere,” he said to the stone wall, watched the hidden door slide open and walked into the room. The next few days were going to be troublesome, he thought to himself as he collapsed in a chair he had pushed a first year out of.
Hermione stared at the wall, wondering what had just happened. Surely she hadn’t been kissed by Malfoy she thought to herself. Shaking her head in a confused manner, Hermione stepped out of the alcove and began to walk to Gryffindor Tower. It wasn’t until she was almost upon the Fat Lady that she recalled that he wanted to meet her more often, in secret. He said it was up to her, but she wasn’t sure what her choice was. If she said yes, she would have to lie to everyone, a talent she had never quite mastered, but she would also get to kiss Malfoy. If she said no, Malfoy might stop seeking her out when she was alone. He might even start treating me like he used to, she thought. She began listing the pros and cons to herself.
“Gillimour,” she muttered to the Fat Lady, to deep in thought to really hear the retort the portrait gave her. By the time she was half-way up the steps to her dormitory she had 17 pros and 10 cons. Content that 17 pros were enough to sooth her mind in case she began second guessing herself, she went to bed, reciting in her mind what she planned to say to Malfoy the next day.
She hadn’t seen him all day. She had left early after breakfast, purposely leaving Ron and Harry so she could be alone, but he didn’t follow her. She had gotten to all her classes early so she could watch for him to walk in the door, but he came in late. She skipped lunch, deciding instead to sit in the library with the hope that he would pop up, as he did the first time, but he never came. It was after dinner, after she had begun to analyse everything she had done and said, thinking it was her fault that he abandoned her, when suddenly she was pulled into an alcove, again.
“Decided yet?” he asked her. This alcove wasn’t nearly as small as the last, so they were able to stand apart from each other, instead of in each others arms.
“Yes, I have. I thought for a long time on it, and because of the number of pros and the number of cons, the best decision would be to continue what we began yesterday,” she said in a rush. It was a wonder he heard anything she said at all because she said it all so quickly. She was about to begin a longer explanation, one that would include said pros and cons, when he finally spoke.
“You made a good choice, Granger,” he said, trying to keep the note of triumph out of his voice.
“You should call me Hermione now, you know. We are going to be doing a bit more than hurling insults at each other, so its only appropriate that we use first names.”
“Ok, I’ll call you Hermione from now on,” he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“So...what do we do now? I mean, I know what we should be doing, but shouldn’t we...discuss it or something?” she asked him.
“This is what we do now, Gra...Hermione,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed her. This one wasn’t like the first. It wasn’t a peck nor was it extremely passionate, but it was a bit more unrestrained than the last. It was as if he wanted to make sure she was ok with the arrangement they had agreed upon and didn’t want to scare her away. Draco lifted his hand and slid it into her hair, gripping the stands and pulling just a tiny bit. He wanted her to realize that he was not a gentle lover, but rather one who did what he wanted to do, and if that was pain, so be it.
Draco finally broke the kiss after several minutes. He ran his fingers through his hair, affectively making a few strands fall into his eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hermione. After dinner. Be ready for me,” he told her as he strode out of the alcove and into the corridor, leaving Hermione alone in the alcove, wondering what he meant by the words be ready for me.
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3
The next few weeks passed in a whirl. They met every night. Sometimes they were in a broom cupboard, sometimes an abandoned classroom. Where ever they could find privacy. Draco wanted no one to know of their affair. He wouldn’t risk going to the Astronomy Tower, where anyone could see who you were snogging. Most gossip started in the Astronomy Tower, so he avoided it as best he could. They met a lot in the dungeons, as no one went down there except those loyal to Draco. It was cold, but Hermione endured it because of Draco. She was addicted to him. All she thought about was him. She was losing sleep because of it, having to do her homework in the middle of the night. Sometimes she would be able to do it during her rare free periods, but more often then not she was with Draco during that time.
She spent as much time with him as she allowed herself to. She was careful. The last thing she wanted was to fall in love with the Slytherin. It just wouldn’t do. She was a Gryffindor, a muggle born, and friends with Harry Potter. It would never work for them. Never.
Talk was rare between them. They had no need for talk, their needs lied in a different place. This was fine with Draco. The way he saw it, the more you talk, the more you get attached, and he couldn’t risk getting attached to the Mudblood. He couldn’t help but enjoy her though. Her know-it-all attitude in class was a benefit when they met in secret. She was inventive, surpassing Draco’s expectations for her.
They rarely got too carried away with themselves, always managing to get back to their common rooms before curfew, as Hermione never wanted to get in trouble. Draco was careful never to let them get out of hand. No matter how far they went, he never got a mark on him. He left many marks on Hermione, mostly on her neck, as she didn’t often let him under her clothing, but he never wanted or got a mark on himself. Until a night 5 weeks into their affair. They had been in a broom cupboard for a mere 15 minutes when Hermione started to suck on Draco’s neck.
“Bloody hell, Hermione...” he mumbled as Hermione bit his neck slightly. It was this bit of pain that made him realize what she was really doing. He was quick to shove her off him, afraid that a mark was already forming. He couldn’t risk people questioning him on where he got it, least of all Pansy.
“I’ve told you not to do that. I can’t risk you leaving marks on my neck, Granger,” he ground out between his teeth.
“I’m sorry...I got carried away. I...I won’t do it again,” she muttered, looking at the ground like a scolded child.
“Its...its ok. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, I just don’t want any questions,” he quickly explained to her, not wanting her to stop the meetings. He needed her to like him. To care for him. His life was on the line.
“Alright, I understand. We...we should probably go..its near curfew,” she said, as she began to pat at her hair, but soon gave up the motion, when she realized that even if it were messed up, no one would notice. She stood back and watched as Draco straightened his school robes.
“Come on, I’ll check the corridor and make sure its clear,” he told her as he stepped away and opened the door to the small broom cupboard. He stuck his head out, looked right and then left. Satisfied that no one was coming, he grabbed Hermione and ushered her out the door. With a peck on the cheek, he left her to go to the Gryffindor common room. He walked back to his own common room, rubbing his neck and putting up his collar, in the hopes that even if a mark were present, no one would see it before he could perform a quick healing charm.
As he walked into the common room, he glanced at his watch, noting that it was barely 2 minutes past curfew. Ignoring the other Slytherins doing homework at one of the tables in the long room, he went to his dorm, where he fell into a troubled sleep.
“You will obey him! You have no choice!” the words were accompanied by a hard slap on Draco’s cheek.
“What if I don’t care about his threats?! If we go away he can’t do a thing!” Draco screamed.
“You have no idea how powerful he is, Draco. He has contacts all over Europe. No one can escape him. No one. Do you understand me, Draco? If you fail, no matter how far we run, he will find us and he will kill us. And besides, Malfoys do not run. We face our fears. We do not cower in defeat! Being afraid of death is for the Mudbloods and Muggles. Purebloods accept their fate, as you must accept it now. You have no choice,” the words were throw in his face.
“I won’t do it,” Draco whispered the words, looking his father in the eye, challenging him.
“You will do it. You will obey him and you will obey me. I demand that you do it, if you choose not to, I will give you a punishment worse than death. You understand, do you not?”
“Yes, father. I understand completely,” Draco said, realizing his defeat. As his father had said, he had no choice. If he did not obey his master, his family would all be dead. He looked up at his father, but saw only blackness. The room in which he had been standing vanished, replaced by an infinite darkness, in which he was the only light. He heard his name being called, repeatedly.
“Draco! Draco, get up, You’ll be late for breakfast! Get up!” was screamed into Draco’s ear, effectively bringing him out of his dreams. They were awful, a repeat of the same argument he had with his father a couple of months ago. He sat up in bed, trying to wake up completely. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and sat there for a few moments. The other boys in the dorm moved around, getting ready for the day, but Draco sat on his bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. The time was nearing for him to do what he had to do, but all Draco wanted to do was run. Run as far as he possibly could, but as his father told him, Malfoys did not run. He was a pureblood and must accept what he had to do. If not to save his parents, then to save himself. He was a Slytherin through and through, and his main concern was himself.
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4
“Draco...please...” she whispered in his ear as he began to unbutton her shirt. The more skin was revealed, the more skin he kissed. She could already tell they were going to go farther than they ever had.
“Is this what you want?” he said against her skin, her shirt finally undone. He pushed her arms out of the sleeves, eager to see everything. She was thin, but her chest wasn’t flat. He liked his women to be built like she was. A hint of a grin was on his lips as he lowered his head back to her skin. His hands moved over her body, wanting to touch her everywhere. His fingers brushed up against the edge of her skirt and her hips jerked in response when he slid his hands underneath the covering.
Her fingers sank into his hair, loving to mess up his perfect, slicked back hair. She felt his hands under her skirt, but had no thoughts of stopping him. This is what she wanted. She was ready to give herself to him. She moaned when he reached her knickers, biting her lip to keep from being too loud.
She removed her fingers from his hair and brought them to his shirt, hurrying to get it off of him so she could touch his skin. Mindless of how many buttons popped off in her rush to get to his skin, she went as fast as she could. She finally reached his chest and began to play with the light spattering of hair there. She followed the hair down to his naval, where it got thinner and disappeared into his pants. She put her lips against his collar bone, sucking softly, her fingers still playing with his hair.
Draco slid his fingers underneath the elastic band at the top of her skirt, sliding it down her legs. She lifted her hips enough for him to get the skirt completely off of her, as she was sitting on a desk in an abandoned classroom. As soon as it was off, he tossed the skirt onto the floor, where her shoes, stockings, and shirt were already laying. He pulled her closer to him, hip to hip, chest to chest, as he kissed her fully on the mouth. Her arms raised to wrap around his neck as she leaned into him, enjoying the heat from his body. As they kissed, Hermione brought her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, bringing his groin into contact with hers, the contact made Draco groan. Draco’s hands ran down her body, his fingers hooking in her knickers and starting to pull them down.
‘Draco...I don’t want to do this here...” she said as she broke the kiss and stopped his hands. Draco looked up, his grey eyes meeting her brown.
“Alright...I’ll take you somewhere else, ok?” he told her.
“But where? There isn’t any where to go besides empty broom cupboards and classrooms..”
“We can sneak out, Hermione,” he said, smirking.
“Draco...I don’t know about that, what if we get caught? I don’t want detention. And what if they don’t give us detention, but something worse? We‘re sure to be caught, Draco, what with so many new security measures this year,” she told him, starting to panic.
“Don’t worry...let me take care of it, I sneak out all the time. There are ways to get out of this castle with no one knowing,” he told her, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. With that said, they both got their clothing put back on and walked out of the room. Draco led her through the castle, finally ending their journey at an old looking tapestry. He pulled it aside, revealing a wall, with a light outline of a door in it. If she hadn’t realized that there had to be something there, she wouldn’t have known there was a door there at all. Draco tapped a stone near the floor and the door opened into a dark hallway. Draco lid her into the hallway, closing the door behind them.
“Lumos,” he whispered, and the corridor was lit up from the tip of his wand. They turned around a corner and met another wall. At this wall Draco simply pushed in a stone and a small door appeared in the wall. He pushed it open and suddenly they were outside the castle, near the Quidditch pitch. He led Hermione over to the shack where they kept the school brooms. He opened the shack and went in, and came out with a broom.
He got on the broom, and held out his hand to Hermione. She glanced down at his hand, unsure of what to do. Every time she got on a broom, she ended up falling off.
“I’ll keep you safe, Hermione,” he told her, wanting her to trust him.
“You promise not to let me fall off?” she asked him.
“I promise you won’t fall off,” he whispered to her. She hesitated for a moment, but then took his hand and got onto the broom. Draco wrapped his arms around her, bringing her up against his chest. With one hand on the broom, and one resting on Hermione’s stomach, he guided them away from Hogwarts. He was careful to not go to far, wanting to be able to get back to the castle quickly. He didn’t know how long they would be gone. He struggled to keep his emotions in check. He must not care for her, he told himself. He must not feel regret or guilt. Those were emotions for the weak.
They finally landed in a small field close to a forest. Draco helped Hermione off the broom, before shrinking it with his wand and putting it in his pocket. He grabbed Hermione’s hand and brought her closer to him, kissing her once she was close enough.
“Is this better?” he whispered in her ear.
“Much,” she whispered to him as he broke the kiss and began to pull her towards the forest. Hermione hesitated at first but soon went along with him, trusting him completely.
Within moments they were surrounded by trees, unable to see the way out. Hermione got closer to Draco, holding his hand tightly. He suddenly stopped, turned to her and began kissing her again. He broke the kiss and held her tightly. Suddenly Hermione felt like she was being squeezed through a tight tunnel. She gasped, realizing that they were Apparating somewhere.
“Draco? Where are we going?” she said, in a panic. He said nothing, just held her closer. Within moments they had stopped in the middle of a clearing in another part of the forest, or at least Hermione thought so, she couldn’t tell completely. Before she could get a good look, Draco let her go and she was shoved to her knees by two sets of hands.
“Draco!” she screamed, before another set of hands searched her and grabbed her wand, snapping it in two. Hermione began to struggle against her captors, but stopped when they cast Stupefy on her.
Draco stepped away, watching Avery and Macnair drag Hermione towards the center of the clearing, where a group of people were standing in a loose circle. The group parted, allowing Hermione and her captors through. Draco followed them, bowing his head when he caught a glance of the person in the center of the circle.
The two Death Eaters dragging Hermione stopped in front of the man standing in the center and layed her on the ground before him.
“Ah, Draco, my boy. You have not disappointed us.” The figure stepped forward as he said it. Draco kneeled before him, bowing his head.
“I would never fail you, My Mord,” he told the Dark Lord, who now stood a mere 2 feet away. Draco kept his mind blank, not wanting Voldemort to see his regret.

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5
“You have proved yourself to be loyal, Draco. I believe you deserve recognition for your dedication,” Voldemort said as he held out his hand. Draco placed his left arm in the Dark Lord’s outstretched hand. As the Dark Lord pushed his wand onto the flesh of Draco’s left forearm, pain shot through Draco.
He squeezed his eyes shut, not against the pain, but against the emotions coming up inside of him. He must not think of her feelings, he told himself. She is unworthy of life, she is a Mudblood, he repeated to himself. She is scum. He found himself wishing he had found another way to capture her. He looked down at his arm, morbidly fascinated by the black lines now etched there.
The words the Dark Lord had said to him months ago echoed through his head.
“You will bring me the Mudblood friend of Harry Potter. If you fail, you and your family will die. I have watched with patience as your father failed me twice. I will not tolerate another failure from your family, Draco. If you fail, there will be no more Malfoys to fail me, do you understand?”
“Yes, My Lord. I will not fail you as my father did, My Lord,” Draco whispered.
“Do I need to give you a preview of what is to come, if you fail?”
“No, My Lord. I understand completely,” Draco said, knowing Voldemort would torture him regardless of whether Draco understood or not.
“Crucio,” the Dark Lord whispered, his wand pointed at Draco. Draco fell completely to the ground, the pain instantly making him scream. He arched his back and then curled into the fetal position, shaking.
“Your punishment shall be much worse than that if you fail. Now, get up and go back to the school,” Voldemort said softly, standing next to Draco.
Draco was snapped back to reality as Avery brought Hermione out of her unconsciousness. She sat up, confused, then saw everyone, looking down at her from their black hoods. She staggered to her feet, only to be forced back down to her knees by the Dark Lord.
“Hermione is your name, am I correct?” Voldemort said, toying with her, as he already knew her name. Hermione glared up at him, as she was still on her knees. Her hands were fisted at her sides and she was breathing heavily.
“When I speak to you, you will respond,” the Dark Lord said to her, motioning to a figure behind her. The person stepped forward and pointed their wand at Hermione.
“Crucio!” The female voice said. When Hermione began to scream, the person casting the spell laughed. Hermione fell to her back, twisting in the pain. Sweat beaded on her brow, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Stop, Bella. I want her sane when I kill her,” The Dark Lord told Bellatrix, who stepped back, once again joining the ranks of the other Death Eaters. Hermione tried to sit up, but was unable to. Her arms were weak from the pain. After a moment she finally sat up, her knees clutched to her chest.
“Now, Hermione, do tell me, what do you believe Harry will do when he finds you’ve gone missing?”
“He will kill you,” Hermione whispered, her voice shaking. The Dark Lord chuckled.
“A 16 year old boy? Kill me? I doubt that. He will never beat me, my dear little Mudblood,” he said.
“Then why are you afraid of him?” Hermione asked. The Dark Lord inhaled sharply, glaring at Hermione.
“I am not afraid,” he nearly spat the word at her, “I merely want the boy done with. He is very troublesome, you see. Always ruining my plans and such. He is like a bug one I can never get rid of, but of course, by killing you, I will finally be able to get to him. I’ve heard you’re the brains of the ‘Golden Trio’, I believe they’re calling you three now. What do you suppose he will do when he finds the little girl who gave him all his little hints gone?”
“He will find you and kill you,” she ground out between her teeth. The Dark Lord shook his head and laughed softly.
“You are all so misguided. Believing a stupid boy will kill me. It’s rather insulting really,” Voldemort said. He turned away from Hermione, and went back to Draco.
“Draco, do not think I have forgotten you. You have been a very good boy, Draco. I want to reward you. Do you want the Mudblood before I kill her?” Voldemort asked Draco. Draco shook his head.
“No, My Lord. I have gotten all I wanted from her,” Draco whispered. As he said the words, Hermione let out a small cry, her shoulders shaking with her sobs.
“Ah, my dear, do not cry. You did not believe he loved you, did you?” Voldemort said as he turned back to Hermione, who was now trying to stifle her tears, “You did not believe that a Pureblood like Draco could ever love a Mudblood, did you? It goes against everything Draco believes in, surely you must have realized that,” the Dark Lord shook his head, “And everyone always said you were so smart, but being a Mudblood I suppose it’s expected that you would stupidly believe in a love that could never be,” Voldemort pointed his wand at Hermione, a slight grin on his face.
“Is there anything you wish to say before you die?” the Dark Lord said. Hermione took a deep breath in, unsure of what she wanted to say.
“Harry will avenge me. I may die, but so will you in the end,” she whispered as she looked into Voldemort’s crimson eyes.
“I’m afraid you’re wrong, my dear,” Voldemort told her with a grin on his face, “Avada Kedavra!” he shouted, a green light flashing. Just a moment before the curse hit Hermione, she looked behind her, at Draco. His bowed head was the last thing she saw before she collapsed to the ground, her eyes staring up to the sky, unseeing.
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6
Draco stood, no longer the subject of the Dark Lord’s attention. He gazed at Granger’s body, detaching himself from any emotion he may have about her death. He had learned that from his aunt, Bellatrix. She had taught him how to squash his emotions, to push aside compassion and do what needed to be done to cleanse the wizarding community of the scum invading their ranks.
He glanced around him, seeing the other Death Eaters in the midst of a celebration. They were one step closer to defeating the side of the Light. He realized that the Dark Lord was staring at him, probably using Legilimency on him, so he quickly gave himself away to the happiness consuming the others. At the end of it all, they would be on top. And he would be a hero. Draco smiled for the first time in years, thinking of how he would be viewed as a great from the second war and what it would bring him.
Hours later, Draco walked back through the hidden passage he and Granger had walked through earlier that night. He was quick to get back to his room. Back to Pansy. He needed an alibi for this night and Pansy would be quick to tell everyone if they had spent the night together, even if he wasn’t there for the whole night.
He was soon back in his own dorm, sending a message to Pansy through a house elf. He went down to the common room, waiting for Pansy there. She came down 20 minutes later, looking tired, but excited. When he had begun his association with Granger, he had stopped his affair with Pansy, unknown to her.
Pansy sat down on his lap, putting her arms around his neck. He stood, her in his arms, taking her to a portrait across the room, behind which lay a hidden room. Once inside, they began to kiss. As always, there was minimal passion in their kiss, but it was enough. With Pansy’s kisses, Draco forgot Hermione.
Draco and Pansy spent the rest of the night in the room. Draco making sure to come out after most of the other Slytherins were up and about, so they could be seen exiting by as many people as possible. When they stepped out, the room was buzzing with voices. They were not speaking of Draco and Pansy coming out of the room, their hair mussed, clothes askew. They were speaking of Hermione missing. Of a note being sent to Dumbledore, and while none knew what the note said, a few had thought they heard a professor or two say something about a “horrible death”.
Draco put his arm around Pansy, walking her to the door of her dorm, leaving a kiss on her lips and walking to his own dorm. Once there, he dressed, pondering what Voldemort would do with her body. He was one for dramatics and was unpredictable in cases such as this. Draco shrugged, assuming he would find out later today, if his guess was correct.
After lunch that day Draco was sitting in the middle of potions, watching Neville struggle now that he didn’t have his little helper to give him answers. He laughed when Neville’s baby blue potion began to bubble over his cauldron. Suddenly the half-breed Hagrid ran into the room.
He stopped just inside the classroom and simply said to Snape, “We found ‘er!” and walked out, Snape after him. No one moved. They all knew what he meant. Granger’s Mudblood body had been found. Draco stood and watched as Potter and Weasley ran out the room, probably hoping to catch Hagrid to find out about Granger.
Draco smirked, and continued to stir his potion, watching as it went from a bright red to a lilac. He was happy to wait for the news. Of course, he really didn’t have to wait to be told about what happened; he had been there. After class Draco walked down the corridor, laughing to himself. As if I could ever love a Mudblood, he said to himself, ignoring the little voice that called him a liar.

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I will take my place in the great below.