A/N: Wow, this has been a long time in coming huh? I've had to give this fic an AU tag because some of the events don't really follow on from HBP, especially in regards to Draco's story. I hope this doesn't deter any of you from reading this fic... Well, without further ado, here is Chapter 5 of 'Blood Feuds.' Characters copyrighted to J.K. Rowling
.:Chapter 5 – Love and War:.
"Will both of you stop!" implored Hermione, her voice more high pitched than usual. She could see the neighbour's blinds twitching, their faces only partially hidden by the grubby nets. "Please?"
"Bit late now isn't it Hermione?" spat Harry, his eyes flicking momentarily to her.
"Just leave her out of this, Potter," warned Draco, dropping his wand from Harry's neck. "Don't you think you've caused her enough grief already?"
"So that's what happened?" questioned Harry, his eyes now fixed on Hermione's shaking form. "Couldn't handle being with me so you fucked him! You've got a great way of dealing with things."
"No, Harry," began Hermione. "It wasn't like that."
"Funny, it looks exactly like that to me," snarled Harry, his knuckles further tightening around the handle of his wand. "I trusted you Hermione and you just threw that trust away. Anything else I should know? Who else did you go with behind my back?"
Hermione felt her teeth bite down on her lip as she broke away from his gaze. What he said was true; she had betrayed his trust, she had thrown away everything they had built up for Draco Malfoy.
"Don't listen to him Hermione," said Draco. Although part of him couldn't deny that he wasn't relishing this scenario, Potter and Granger at each others throats, a look of almost sincerity was apparent on his face.
"Harry, I... I was going to tell you," she stammered. "I was going to tell you how I couldn't keep this up, us up, but I didn't-,"
"You didn't want to hurt me? Betray me? Tear me apart? Take your pick Hermione," interrupted Harry, his eyes almost betraying the immense hurt he felt inside. "After everything we've been through. So much for no matter what, does that even mean anything to you?"
"I'm sor-,"
"SORRY!" roared Harry unable to keep his emotions under control. "You're sorry! No, Hermione, you aren't sorry, I'm the one who's sorry, sorry that I spent the past three years with you."
"You don't mean that," sobbed Hermione softly. "I know you don't mean it."
"I do," replied Harry. "I've never been more certain of anything."
"Harry, please," she began again.
"Leave Hermione," warned Harry, his voice becoming dangerously quiet. "Leave before I do something I might reject."
"As if hitting her wasn't enough," snarled Draco, his mind full of images of his father and his mother, the way his mother was always quiet even when he could hear his father punishing her.
"Harry, I can't," whispered Hermione, ignoring Draco's response.
"LEAVE!"
Hermione looked at him imploringly one last time before turning away from both him and Draco, fresh tears streaming down her face. Her cheek still throbbed from where Harry had struck her; she tentatively brought her hand to her face feeling the heat the red mark emanated. Harry had never raised his hand at her; he had always been too emotionless...
She needed to go home, to see a friendly face, to find people who weren't going to use her. How could she have been so stupid to have trusted someone like Draco Malfoy? Part of her knew that whatever she had 'shared' with Draco wasn't going to last, but for it to end up like this? For her to hurt Harry in ways she couldn't even comprehend herself? She could feel the guilt consuming her heart, filling the empty hole where her love for Harry once was.
Both Harry and Draco watched as Hermione walked off, her pace brisk as if she couldn't get away fast enough; Draco was half-expecting her to break out into a sprint. He didn't know why, but her tears had made his stomach clench in what could only be described as a feeling of guilt. He hadn't felt this way before, not for a long time... guilt was something a Malfoy just wasn't capable of, but then he had changed so much; the name Malfoy seemed to be more of a curse than a blessing now. Rather than wizards being prejudiced against muggleborns, it was now purebloods that felt the brunt of the wizarding community's wrath, especially purebloods with well known Death Eater connections. His father, his aunt, his uncle... no one could get rid of a family legacy that tainted.
Draco watched as Harry turned back around to face him, his green eyes burning with a white hot anger he had never seen from Potter before. His face was as pale as Death, his eyes were bloodshot and his wand was now pressed against Draco's heart. Draco's own wand lay by his side, although he was half-tempted to mirror Potter's action especially after the words that followed.
"You should be locked up with that murderer father of yours," spoke Harry, his voice hoarse and low, "that, or dead."
"Well here's your chance Potter," retorted Draco, a mocking edge in his voice, his arms spread in a welcoming gesture. "I know you've been dying for this, so what are you waiting for?"
"Unlike you and your dad, I'm not a murderer," replied Harry. "Sooner or later, the Ministry will see through you, see through the bribes. They'll expose you."
"Huh," scoffed Draco, ignoring the accusation Harry had just thrown at him. "You just haven't got the bottle to do it. No wonder she left you."
Before Draco had time to rejoice in his emotional crushing of Potter, Harry's fist collided painfully with the side of his face. Instead of gasping in pain, a satisfied grin crossed the Malfoy's lips as he felt the inside of his mouth; sure enough, his fingers came back bloodied.
"Quite a temper you've got there Potter," smirked Draco. "I better watch out."
"Go chase after your whore," whispered Harry, his wand dropping ever so slightly from Draco's chest. "Stay here a second longer and you'll regret it."
"You think she's even worth chasing after?" mused Draco, walking backwards down the steps, his eyes never leaving Harry's pale face. "You think I did what I did for my own satisfaction? No; the reason I did it was to see the look on your face when I told you that I fucked her and that she loved every second of it. So long, Potter."
Draco flashed Harry one last triumphant smile before turning to walk off down the road. Adrenaline coursed through him with every step that he took. A dull pain throbbed just below his cheekbone where Harry's fist had connected with his face; that was going to leave a bruise by the evening. Bringing a hand to his pale face, Draco rubbed at the swelling absentmindedly, the metallic tinge of blood still washing around his mouth. His thoughts went to Hermione... he wondered where she had gone, whether she was okay; he knew that was a stupid question to ask, of course she wasn't okay. Allowing a sigh to escape from his lips, Draco picked up his pace in the vain hope of catching up with her, of explaining everything to her... before it was too late.
It was hardly the most cheerful of places, but something about this graveyard made Hermione feel at ease. The gnarled trunks and half-exposed roots of yew trees struggled up through the ground, trying desperately to get closer to the sun. The white marble gravestones lay in perfect lines across the green, their perfection occasionally broken by the occasional statue for the wealthier of the dead that lay here. It was so quiet, a welcome respite from the calamity that was raging inside her. Perching on the edge of one of the benches, Hermione clasped her head in her hands, hoping to contain her emotions, sobs wracking through her as she gulped for air. Why did it have to turn out like this? Why did she let her guard down? Fat lot of good those brains did you, Granger. She wished things were simple again, like they had been all those summers ago, before Ron's death, before the Final Battle... her memories carried her away...
"Come on Hermione," teased Harry, hovering above the ground on his Firebolt. "I promise you'll be safe."
Hermione stood there, her arms folded across her chest, a look of uncertainty emblazoned across her delicate features. She had never felt comfortable on a broomstick before, something about a mode of transport that didn't have seat belts worried her.
"I'm quite happy here on the ground, Harry," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "but you go ahead."
"It won't be the same without you," smiled Harry, his green eyes laughing behind his glasses.
"Uh huh, sure," replied Hermione, her lips trying in vain to suppress a smile.
"Why do you have to be such a spoilsport?" he asked, his arms now folded across his chest imitating her. "You don't have to be a prefect over the summer too."
"Harry, you know how much I hate heights," replied Hermione, her arms dropping to her sides.
"Seriously, I'll look after you," said Harry, offering her his hand. "No crazy stunts, no Wronski feints, just plain, regular flying, I promise."
Hermione considered him for a moment before gingerly placing her hand in his own. Swinging a leg over the broomstick handle, she wrapped her arms tightly around Harry's waist, her eyes jamming shut the moment she sat down. Harry turned his head round to peer over his shoulder at her; Hermione's face was buried into his back, her nose crinkled in anticipation of what was to come. He couldn't help but let a contented smile sweep across his lips as he looked at her huddled against him.
"You alright?"
"I'm fine," replied Hermione, her eyes still jammed shut. "Can you just hurry up and get it over with?"
Kicking off from the ground, Harry felt Hermione's arms squeeze tighter around his middle, pulling herself closer towards him. The Burrow soon looked like a mere speck in an ocean of green and brown as he climbed higher and higher. It felt good to be this free, away from the constraints of being the 'Chosen One', just him and Hermione.
"I love you Hermione," shouted Harry over the wind turbulence.
"I love you too," came the shrill reply. "Are we almost done?"
"Almost," replied Harry, a wide grin across his face.
Harry stopped the broom and hovered in mid-air looking out over the countryside. He could feel Hermione's grip loosen slightly around his waist as she too looked out over the English countryside; it truly was breathtaking.
"I never thought I'd say it," shouted Hermione, "but it's beautiful up here!"
"I told you so," replied Harry laughing. "So, are you a convert?"
"I wouldn't go that far," smiled Hermione, "not yet anyway."
"Give me time," replied Harry, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.
"Well it's a good thing we've got all the time in the world then," mused Hermione, drawing herself closer towards him, not out of fear, but out of love.
Harry felt his smile diminish slightly as he thought on Hermione's words; did they really have all the time in the world? Was he even going to live past his eighteenth birthday? Were any of them? Life was so uncertain especially for him. Harry vainly tried to force the thought of a final battle with Voldemort from his mind, the battle that had haunted his dreams for the past seven years, but to no avail.
Their descent to the Burrow was in silence and it was only when they touched down that words passed between them.
"Harry? What's wrong? You were really quiet up there."
"I... God, I feel so helpless," he began, running a gloved hand through his hair. "What you said up there, it just... it just made me feel completely helpless."
"I'm sorry, I didn-,"
"No," he interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder, "it's not you, it's me. It's just... well, I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."
"Nothing is going to happen to me," she smiled, cupping his face with her hand, "or Ron, or anyone."
"You don't know that," replied Harry, shaking his head. "Voldemort could strike tomorrow and-"
"Sshhh, listen to me," whispered Hermione, her brown eyes gazing deeply into his. "I don't know what will happen tomorrow, none of us do, all I know is that I love you and I trust you. You can beat him alright? Whether that's tomorrow or a year from now, I know you can."
Harry felt tears of both gratitude and love spring to his eyes as Hermione's words washed over him. Pulling her into a tight embrace, he rested his head on top of hers feeling her arms wrap around him.
"God, I love you so much," murmured Harry, his lips brushing against her hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You won't have to do without me," replied Hermione. "We'll always be together."
"No matter what?" asked Harry, a hint of longing in his voice.
"No matter what," promised Hermione, her eyes closing in solemn recognition of her vow.
"Hermione?"
She lifted her head up, her eyes searching out the owner of the voice that had just called her name. She didn't have to look far until her eyes fell upon the tall form of Draco Malfoy, a crestfallen look emblazoned across his face. Brushing her tears away with the back of her hand, she quickly stood up and walked away from him, her pace quickening with each step she took.
"Hermione, wait!"
His pleas fell upon deaf ears... she wasn't going to fall for his tricks again. Hermione could hear his footsteps crunching on the gravel as he ran towards her; a hand grabbed the top of her arm, attempting to halt her.
"GET OFF ME!" screamed Hermione, unbidden tears of hurt and anguish falling freely from her hollowed eyes. "Don't touch me!"
"Listen," began Draco, hastily removing his hand from her arm. "I didn't mean-,"
"How?" whispered Hermione, her voice hoarse. "How could you do this? God, I'm so stupid! I should have known you were no different."
"Look, I've changed," implored Draco, his arms itching to restrain her and hold her close.
"Leopards don't change their spots," spat Hermione, her bottom lip quivering as she attempted to stem the flow of tears. "Why did I even think for a second you would? The son of a Death Eater, a Death Eater who tried to kill me no less! You made my years at Hogwarts hell!"
"Please, listen to me," began Draco again.
"So you can lie to me again?" interrupted Hermione. "No! Just leave me alone, don't ever speak to me or come near me again!"
"Hermione!"
Without so much as a second glance, Hermione turned away, her footsteps echoing off in the distance. Was revenge on Potter worth this much? Draco slumped down on to the bench that was occupied by Hermione moments ago; there was still some of her warmth clinging to the aged wood. Sighing, he brought his hands to his head, massaging his temples with his fingertips. He knew she was never going to listen to him again, she hated him now more than she ever did back at Hogwarts and who could blame her?
"Nice one Malfoy," he whispered to himself. "Daddy would be so proud."
The thought of his father filled him with a silent rage, causing his hands to ball up into angry fists. Draco would always be known as Lucius Malfoy's son, a curse that would mark him out for the rest of his days. He deserved to be cursed though after what he had done when he unwittingly served the Dark Lord two years ago... Draco couldn't remember every detail, but he knew the face of the person he killed all too well. It wasn't your fault Malfoy. You were under the imperius curse... it wasn't your fault. It was a shame that line of reasoning had become redundant now... it was his fault and no matter what kind of lies he tried to convince himself with it would always be his fault.
It was like he was seeing through someone else's eyes, his body was at the will and command of someone else, all he could do was watch as he placed that hideous mask over his face. There was no point in fighting it; it hurt too much to fight it. His eyes searched around, first settling on his aunt, Bellatrix, her long hair hidden under her hood. There was his uncle, Rodolphus, his blue eyes cold, his face concealed by the same mask Draco wore. He couldn't see his father, but he could see Voldemort. Yes, there he was, his serpentine features surveying his followers. Was the Dark Lord speaking to him? It was so mute in his own mind that Draco couldn't make out what Voldemort was saying to him.No. He can't ask that of me. No... I won't do it.
His protests didn't register with his body. He felt the heavy, yellow-nailed hand of Fenrir Greyback clamp down on his shoulder, turning him around. Draco couldn't hear Voldemort's words, but he could hear Greyback's.
"Good, a second chance to finish off that weasel. He'll wish I killed him the first time."
Draco's legs started to walk forward, his wand drawn as he apparated with the werewolf.
"Murderer," he murmured, his mind returning to the present. The word disgusted him as it spilt from his lips.
He should feel disgusted; he professed to have changed, but that still didn't stop him from indulging in petty revenge. He led Hermione into thinking she could trust him only to throw it back in her face. Perhaps she was right... perhaps he hadn't changed at all. If that was the case then he would do what the old Draco would do... and with that he apparated, heading for the one person who would provide some kind of distraction for the thoughts and feelings that screamed out for his attention.
A/N: End of Chapter 5! Hope you liked it. I really can't seem to get away from those damned flashbacks – I love them so much. I'm as much a Harry/Hermione 'shipper as I am a Draco/Hermione 'shipper so I guess they are in there for my own benefit too. Hopefully Chapter 6 should be up fairly soon, I'm still trying to work out where the story will go so I'm sorry if it seems rather adlibbed in places. Anyway, please feel free to drop me a mail or a review – I love hearing from people.