Deleted Scenes: The One for Chapter Twenty-Three
Title Deleted Scenes: The One for Chapter Twenty-Three
Status 20/?
Summary An evening at Malfoy Manor (Seventh Year)
Disclaimer I owe it all to JKR.
Was she surprised by his heated departure?
Not really.
Did she feel guilty that some part of her always presumed the worst in her friend?
Most certainly.
It had been bad for a while; Hermione couldn’t avoid that truth anymore than Harry. Now there were two neither wanted to admit how lost they felt without their dear friend.
In the immediate days that were consumed by Ron’s absence she cried herself to sleep most nights; more often than not she found herself awakened to eyes full of fresh unshed tears. She wasn’t the only one completely exhausted but she couldn’t break her promise now.
Harry and Hermione continued on.
The night after their visit to Godric’s Hollow was the first time she remembered his cameo in her jumbled, incoherent dreams. He never said anything, but the look in his eyes lingered as she made breakfast, or packed up camp. They burned with an intensity she had never seen before, and if she knew anything of Draco it was that he was not one for idle emotion.
It was possible that he had always been there in her subconscious, appearing for a fleeting second as she slept with thoughts of teatime in Australia or study sessions in the library. She was not comforted by these sudden nightly visits; he became even more disconcerting once Ron returned.
She never spoke of it, and never dreamed she would actually see him again until her arrival as part of a bound bundle on his doorstep.
Once the debate over Harry’s identity began, she couldn’t help but second-guess the hasty jinx used in the darkness of their tent. Several alternatives had come to mind as Lucius and Narcissa went back and forth; Draco’s lack of affirmation did nothing to stop her internal debate. Everything left her mind only to be filled with emptiness when Narcissa’s memory stepped in to play its part.
How could anyone forget that brilliant black eye?
He hadn’t looked at her once, nor had she tried to look at him. Bellatrix made sure all she could see was the exquisite Persian or a practiced sneer as she’d yank her hair, pulling her head back as the questions she couldn’t answer continued.
Regardless, both were very much aware of the other’s presence.
Every scream that countered crucio clenched his heart not unlike how Hermione clawed at the rug as the curse burned through her veins and twisted her body most horrifically.
Every “please” that she cried when doing her best to appease the woman who held everything in her hands made his mouth dry and his bruised and beaten heart leap into his throat.
After he returned with the Goblin he was amazed at how much her condition had worsened in the few minutes he had been away from the room. Hermione would not be conscious much longer and what could happen to her mind once she slipped into the black made Draco’s heart beat with renewed purpose.
It can’t end like this for her.
She can’t end like this.
Bellatrix was readying herself for another go before turning to the Goblin for questioning.
Hermione lifted her head, tears strangely void from her ashen face. She was in a haze, barely aware of all around her. Vision fuzzy, colors starting to fade, it was all slipping away and she could do nothing to stop it.
Taking a deep breath she blinked and tried to reset the view before her. Draco, looking at her with eyes she had seen so many nights before, the grey stormed across the room burning its way into her mind. The intensity didn’t worry her any more for she finally knew the message he meant to convey in all those dreams, she had just always come across him too soon.
His shaky timbre echoed in her mind’s eye with such urgency that the Unforgivable was but a whisper in that last moment before all she knew was black.
Live. Please.
Status 20/?
Summary An evening at Malfoy Manor (Seventh Year)
Disclaimer I owe it all to JKR.
Was she surprised by his heated departure?
Not really.
Did she feel guilty that some part of her always presumed the worst in her friend?
Most certainly.
It had been bad for a while; Hermione couldn’t avoid that truth anymore than Harry. Now there were two neither wanted to admit how lost they felt without their dear friend.
In the immediate days that were consumed by Ron’s absence she cried herself to sleep most nights; more often than not she found herself awakened to eyes full of fresh unshed tears. She wasn’t the only one completely exhausted but she couldn’t break her promise now.
Harry and Hermione continued on.
The night after their visit to Godric’s Hollow was the first time she remembered his cameo in her jumbled, incoherent dreams. He never said anything, but the look in his eyes lingered as she made breakfast, or packed up camp. They burned with an intensity she had never seen before, and if she knew anything of Draco it was that he was not one for idle emotion.
It was possible that he had always been there in her subconscious, appearing for a fleeting second as she slept with thoughts of teatime in Australia or study sessions in the library. She was not comforted by these sudden nightly visits; he became even more disconcerting once Ron returned.
She never spoke of it, and never dreamed she would actually see him again until her arrival as part of a bound bundle on his doorstep.
Once the debate over Harry’s identity began, she couldn’t help but second-guess the hasty jinx used in the darkness of their tent. Several alternatives had come to mind as Lucius and Narcissa went back and forth; Draco’s lack of affirmation did nothing to stop her internal debate. Everything left her mind only to be filled with emptiness when Narcissa’s memory stepped in to play its part.
How could anyone forget that brilliant black eye?
He hadn’t looked at her once, nor had she tried to look at him. Bellatrix made sure all she could see was the exquisite Persian or a practiced sneer as she’d yank her hair, pulling her head back as the questions she couldn’t answer continued.
Regardless, both were very much aware of the other’s presence.
Every scream that countered crucio clenched his heart not unlike how Hermione clawed at the rug as the curse burned through her veins and twisted her body most horrifically.
Every “please” that she cried when doing her best to appease the woman who held everything in her hands made his mouth dry and his bruised and beaten heart leap into his throat.
After he returned with the Goblin he was amazed at how much her condition had worsened in the few minutes he had been away from the room. Hermione would not be conscious much longer and what could happen to her mind once she slipped into the black made Draco’s heart beat with renewed purpose.
It can’t end like this for her.
She can’t end like this.
Bellatrix was readying herself for another go before turning to the Goblin for questioning.
Hermione lifted her head, tears strangely void from her ashen face. She was in a haze, barely aware of all around her. Vision fuzzy, colors starting to fade, it was all slipping away and she could do nothing to stop it.
Taking a deep breath she blinked and tried to reset the view before her. Draco, looking at her with eyes she had seen so many nights before, the grey stormed across the room burning its way into her mind. The intensity didn’t worry her any more for she finally knew the message he meant to convey in all those dreams, she had just always come across him too soon.
His shaky timbre echoed in her mind’s eye with such urgency that the Unforgivable was but a whisper in that last moment before all she knew was black.
Live. Please.