Disclaimer: It's all J.K.'s. I merely enjoy playing with her creations

Dedication: This is dedicated to Amber Athame', because she made me watch too many Dramione videos on , and this idea got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave me alone.

Warning: Character death. Immense sadness (probably inspired by the fact that I had no internet while I was typing this…).

Situation: After Seventh Year- all age 21

Beta: un'beta'd. Sad me. I need a beta.

Title: Emerald

Chapter 1: His Traitorous Heart

The dim light coming from the curtained windows eased my headache. I raised a hand to my face and covered my eyes, allowing myself some rest from the expressionless mask I forced myself to wear at all other times. In the safety of my rooms I could pretend that I no longer needed to hide my feelings behind shuttered eyes.

I dropped my hand and continued pacing, as I had been for the past hour or so, rationalizing with myself. There was no reason for me to have this hesitancy when it came to fulfilling my vows. I laced my fingers together to hide their trembles, and stared at the treacherous digits.

At no other time in my life had I ever contemplated going against my Master's will. I did everything exactly as he told me, and did it well. And yet here I was, waging a war against my own body, half of me fighting the well- conditioned urge to obey my Master's bidding.

It should not be this difficult! I railed to myself. The weak female in the cell far below me should not be able to influence my acts. I believed in my Master. I freely accepted his beliefs.

Mudbloods are a blight upon the Wizarding World. Purebloods are the superior race, I chanted to myself. We must purge our world of the taint staining it. The Mudbloods cannot be allowed to breed and further contaminate the Wizarding World. The mantra filled my mind, yet instead of soothing my doubts as it always had before, it increased them.

Are you doing the right thing, Draco? My subconscious murmured to me. Are you so sure in your beliefs that you would seal her fate?

"Aaargh!" My sudden, guttural cry interrupted the insidious whispers, and I spun around, grabbing a priceless vase and hurling it against the wall. The resulting shower of broken glass released the tension inside of me, and I stared at the remains as I thought.

I knew what had to be done. I knew that I had to obey my Master.

So why was I hesitating? What stupidity had overcome my common sense? It was easy- go down to the dungeons, kill the whelp, report to the Master, and I would live. Any other answer to this would result in death- my death. But God help me, why was I still wavering? Why could I not make the decision?

"What is wrong with me?" I moaned, dropping into the chair in front of my desk and resting my head in my hands. I stayed that way, thinking. What long- buried part of my soul had arisen from the ashes to reclaim my conscience? And why was it happening now?

I reached deep down inside of myself, searching for the answer. No- there was no residual hope of becoming Potter's friend. No- I didn't want to switch sides- I agreed with all of the principles of my Master. No- I didn't have any guilt for what I had done.

So what was it?

I thought about the prisoner trapped in the warded cell. She had no power- I held her wand in my own pocket. There was nothing spectacular about her appearance, if anything, it was merely remarkable that she was still alive with the amount of blood loss she had sustained. An inaudible growl rose in my throat as I conjured up a picture of her to my mind's eye. Broken, bleeding, defeated- and all I wanted to do was kill whoever had done that to her.

My hand stole up to my neck to capture the emerald that had swung free from my shirt. I studied it, appreciating the fine, delicate lines that encased the gem, coiled like serpents through the silver chain, ensnared the eye of the unwary. I let it bring me back from the killing edge, calming me with it's familiarity, and as I gazed into the fathoms of the stone, I allowed myself be drugged by the play of light, and listened to what my subconscious was trying to tell me.

My head snapped up, and my eyes widened in shock. No- no, it couldn't be. I shoved the chair back as I stood and resumed my pacing, my disbelief masking the sound of a sharp crack as a house elf appeared. Only when the servile creature dared to interrupt did I realize it was with me.

"What do you want?" I couldn't take my mind off of the shameful truth I had discovered, and tuned out the fearful stammering of the elf until a whispered sentence caught my attention.

"… Master Lucius said th- th- that he w- w- would take care of th- the Mudb- blood if M- M- Master doesn't hurry up."

The creature shrank in fear as I cursed, and spat "Tell my Father that I will take care of the Mudblood after she has suffered enough." I paused, and added, "And come back when you're done." My house elf disappeared with another sharp crack, and I went over to the window.

I was not in love with the Mudblood. I have dedicated these past three years to eradicating their filthy race. How had this happened? My whirling mind made it harder to think, and I forcibly calmed myself.

It would not do to be anything other than Draco Lucius Malfoy, Lord Malfoy in my own right, and heir to the Malfoy fortune, if my father came into the room. A moment later, Biddy re- appeared, looking much the worse for the wear. My temper rose, and I barely restrained myself from seeking out my father and murdering him. Biddy was mine, and no one was allowed to touch her.

"What did he have to say?" I asked softly, deadly. The creature shrank beneath my tone, but spoke.

"M- M- Master Lucius sa- says to take ca- care of it n- n- now." She flinched back, clearly bracing herself, and my temper rose. I have never lain a harmful hand on Biddy, and I never would. My nostrils flared of their own accord, and I walked away from the window.

Holding out my hand to the cowering elf, I commanded lowly, "Take me to the Mudblood." She reached out gingerly and grasped my hand, and - still groveling- brought us to the dungeons.

The trip was smooth, barely noticeable, and I waited to let go of her hand until my eyes had adjusted to the dim light. There was no one present, neither guard nor family, and the fearful elf pressed against my leg as I stood. Only one cell had a ward activated as we only had the one prisoner, and my sight seemed to be filled with the softly glowing doorway.

Pressing my hand to Biddy's head, I brought her with me as I walked forward, stopping before the active ward. The object and reminder of my torment was inside, a crumpled, broken shell of a body covered in old and new blood. Bushy hair was matted and tangled, lank and disgusting. The arm hanging at her side faced the wrong direction, and scarlet blood was tracing a sluggish path down her calves.

I snarled silently, displeased with the picture of brokenness before me, quelling the rising thought that she did not deserve to be treated like this. It seemed my own mind was set against me as I viewed the prisoner.

My body was still, composed, expressionless, but my instinct was to get her out of here, bring her anywhere where she could be treated, save her from the spectre of Death I imagined standing in the corner, waiting to steal her final breath.

Biddy whimpered, and pressed closer to my leg, actually daring to hug it as she also observed the bloody wreck. The sound of my elf was what finally signaled our presence to the Mudblood.

She brought her head up tiredly, as if in slow motion, and when she met my gaze, no recognition flared in her eyes. Nothing but the weary look of someone who has come to expect torture from anyone.

I would like to believe that my own face held no expression other than cool indifference, but I cannot say for sure. I hated the female more in that moment than at any other time, for she had succeeded in piercing my armour, a thing no one else had ever managed.

As she stared at me with resignation, something seemed to come over her, and she cocked her head and regarded me closely. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable moment when she realized who I was. But it never came. It passed, and she looked away, apparently grasping that no one was going to torture her, and my lips twisted into a perversion of a smile as I accepted the fact that her faculties were gone.

Why, then, was the urge to take her away still so strong? If she did not have control over her mind, she did not deserve to live. But still the urge was there, and I contemplated it, leaning against the doorway. I watched her, unable to decide what I was going to do.

It would be so easy to carry out my Masters orders right now, when she was in no shape to defy me, and she could not defy me. Yet I hesitated, gazing at her in bewilderment now, as no one was there to see. It would be so easy…

I straightened with a decisive movement, and her eyes shot up to take me in, fearful that her period of grace was over. But I ignored her, and turned to Biddy.

"Biddy," I said, my voice as composed as my mind was not, and as the elf jumped away from my leg the Mudblood gasped in comprehension.

She knew who I was now, and the wary fear in her gaze tore at my heart in a way I could not fathom. But I merely raised an eyebrow at her. It seemed that the girl who had bested me in all of our classes was back, and I no longer knew what to do.

Hidden in the back of my mind, my blackened soul sang in relief that she had not lost herself into the pits of insanity, but my rational mind was pitched into turmoil without warning, thrown back into the fray that would determine if I would obey my Master.

As Hermione stared at me, I fought with myself, struggling to stay afloat in the sea of indecision that suffused my thoughts.

The bloodied female was no longer a faceless entity representative of the filth of the Earth, but the girl who I knew would one day help destroy my Master.

And only one agonized thought filled my head- what should I do?