27A/N: I am so sorry for the huge delay in the fanfic, I'll be really grateful if yall forgive me…? So here's chapter 10, it feels like I've been writing for a lifetime! Of course I haven't been writing for that long though… lol
Also I noticed a review on my other story about 'Don'tForgetThePincers' being another account for me? I'm sorry if it seemed that way, but we're just friends not the same people lol. Hopefully, that's cleared...
Song Suggestion: Somebody to lean on- Isa Molin (for Hermione and Harry's scene) I thought it kind of related with Ron so hopefully that was a good choice
Warrior Inside – Leader
…once I find a song more suitable for Daphne I'll let you guys know… hopefully I can find one
Warning: Lots of mentions of blood for second scene (aka Daphne's scene) Abuse included… please read carefully if any of these stuff triggers you easily!
Chapter 10- Better and Worse
Gone- Hermione couldn't believe the past few hours had actually occurred. It seemed as if they were all just a cruel prank, and well… Ron would spring out of nowhere to apologize profusely. Though, she knew that it wasn't going to happen- that Ronald Weasley had actually left during the most brutal times. She couldn't help but wonder if something may have happened to him- three hours had passed since he stared straight into her eyes, full of betrayal and anger. Harry, of course, hadn't taken it very well.
To be honest, she hadn't either. His reaction had seemed more mature and calm, though Hermione knew better. He had merely gazed at her for a couple seconds, as if trying to figure out if she was just messing with him. In the end, he remained silent and walked over to the round table he and Hermione had previously occupied. She had noticed that the locket which Ron had wretched from his neck lay on the ground innocently. A rush of hot anger had crawled up her spine, and if anything; she blamed the locket. Its fucking lies poisoned Ron's mind- or as she would like to think. What if he had contained his voiceless thoughts for a whole two months? Maybe longer; she honestly couldn't pay that much attention.
There was enough on her mind as it was.
If anything, she wanted to run over to Harry, reassure everything would be alright, and let his tears dampen her loose shirt. That would be a lie though, it wasn't alright. It wasn't okay before Ron had left. Neither was it okay after he did leave. None of it was alright, and she was tired of hiding the cold truth. It didn't mean that it didn't pain her though.
The two Slytherins weren't very reactive either; Nott merely frowned while Malfoy's face remained passive, void of emotions. After five minutes, they decided to call it a night and had retired to their own separate beds. No more than two minutes later, Hermione was certain they were asleep. And here she was, staring into nothing as she sat outside the enlarged tent. Her coffee brown curls were tied loosely into a messy bun. She knew more than half of her voluminous locks had escaped, but she made no desired move to fix them.
Her hands were clasped tightly, and well- she did seem to feel slightly cold, but did it matter? The answer was yes- there was no point in freezing. And moping over the red-head. Sudden waves of anger and sadness came crashing down on her as she grabbed her wand before uttering several spells. First was the silencing spell, followed by a few blasts. She knew she'd regret her outburst of emotions in the morning, but a couple tears slipped past her eyes. Breathing quite heavily, she shut her eyes, and focused on the wet feeling which had covered both her cheeks sufficiently. As if she finally realized what she was doing, she hastily wiped her teary eyes before lifting herself abruptly.
What was she doing here? Out in the cold breeze with no one around? Sighing, she kneeled down to grasp the fairytale, before dusting it. Flipping the pages, she treated them with utmost care and respect as she moved the flaps of the tent. Her bespectacled friend still occupied the table, and she decided to join him.
As soon as she took a step towards him, Ron's words hit hard as she froze, swallowing nervously. She knew she shouldn't have paid attention though they echoed around in her mind, destroying her mind's peaceful silence. Biting her bottom lip, Hermione merely turned on her heel and decided to sit next to a lamp. The flames danced around, the color rich as ever. Leaning towards its warmth, her gaze fixated on the bright wisps of fire. Mesmerized, she didn't notice her friend's head lifting nor the sad glance directed at her. Though, she did notice Harry making his way to her. Lifting her head wearily, he gazed at her for a couple moments before extending his hand.
What was he up to now?
Frowning slightly, she delicately placed her own in his before he pulled her up to her feet. Furrowing her brows, his hands snaked behind her neck as she felt the cursed locket lifted. As Harry pocketed the locket, she realized his intention a bit late. He began to sway with her across the room, as she felt a smile tug at her lips…
Once the music began to fade in the background, Hermione and Harry still held on to each other. She wanted to thank him- somehow. Her worries had left her mind and she felt her peace return slowly to her. The dull ache in her mind was gone. Maybe it was numb for the time being, but she'd take it.
Her guard rose instantly as she walked out, her nerves on the edge. The darkness stared back here as her gaze wandered around. Calling out softly, Daphne Greengrass waited a couple seconds before swallowing nervously. Turning heel, the bright, angel-like, white door had disappeared, blackness engulfing the area it once covered. Once again, she realized a liquid pooled around her ankles. Where were her shoes? Or heels; for that matter. The silence was deafening to her ears as she took several steps forward.
Then, she heard it. A soft, sweet whisper. Her name. Eyes widening, she whipped around, her golden locks flying all over her face.
"I'm here," she whispered, head high as she licked her lips. "My sister was promised." Her voice grew stronger as the silence and the darkness mocked her.
Fists clenching, her eyes hardened as her voice echoed once more, "Come out, you fucking coward."
Finally, she detected motion. It was faraway, but after gazing at it, Daphne ran. Faster than she had ever before. Before the figure had the chance; the opportunity to hide itself once more. Her feet hurt immensely, though she pushed through the ache as she neared the…man. His back was turned towards her, but… she would realize the blond strands anywhere. Everything; her mind screamed at her to run back; to beg for the door to appear once more. And she would merely continue hearing the screams. Slowing her pace, she came to a stop as she felt her heart slam against her ribcage. Beads of sweat rolled down her face, and suddenly she left exposed. Her breathing had definitely increased dramatically, and she let her nails stab her skin. Drawing blood, she couldn't focus on the mediocre pain; it wasn't important at all. At least now it wasn't.
"Who are- who are you?" She hated it. Her voice had cracked, and softened towards the end of the question. She wanted to tug at her hair in frustration, but she had no time to dwell upon her speech.
The male had clearly heard her; his hands which were clasped tightly behind his back broke apart. His shoulders, tense, calmed down considerably.
But he didn't turn around.
He stayed like that for a couple moments before a pale hand went out to tug his hood over his head. She felt like scoffing; hiding once more. Under a mask? Weren't enough people suffering the same way? What was adding one more?
And he turned.
Daphne couldn't have felt a huger realization than she had before. The blond hair, the pale skin…
No.
A wave of dread crashed down onto her as she concealed her gasp of horror. The male knelt down to scoop the liquid in his palms. He didn't drink it though. Neither did he stare at it. His gaze was focused on her, and her alone. It felt as if being suffocated. She couldn't do anything other than hold her breath, and feel exposed. So vulnerable.
Gesturing to the liquid, his gaze never left her, as she automatically stepped back. Releasing her breath, her chest heaved as she squeezed her eyes shut. Focusing on her rapid breaths, she opened them once again, and knelt down. Her body shook slightly, as she straightened, the liquid resting in her dainty palms. Tipping it towards her mouth, she was ready to down whatever it was when the man shook his head. Lowering her palm, her gaze left the man, and looked down. Just for her horror to build up, and slap her in the face.
It was blood. Red, warm blood was gathered in her palm; her ankles were probably drenched in it. And the question remained. Whose was it?
Pushing the thought away, a scream crept up her throat and forced its way out. Panting hard, she let the blood tip off her hands, and whimpered. Whipping around, she inspected her hands shakily as her mind went numb. It was just blood, so much blood. Everywhere.
Her face consorted into a grimace, every bone in her body begged her to run; to do anything to escape. But she stayed rooted to her spot.
"Turn around,"
The man's voice filled the void, the silence which threatened to swallow her whole. And she listened. Slowly and carefully, she twisted her body, and everything in that moment froze. But the horror continued to build up. Oh, yes. Pale skin, blond hair, expressions twisted to form a cruel smirk. Yes, Daphne Greengrass did know him. In fact, she knew him too much, until the point it was frightening.
His voice was the dead give-away though. While the rest of her cracked and crumbled, her mind resided intact with one singular question.
"Daphne, how lovely to see you," Draco Malfoy murmured.
"Why?" She croaked back, her voice small. But it did nothing to bury her raging anger. "WHY? Where's Astoria?!" She roared, her nails digging into her skin. And now, she could feel the fear and pain crawl up her neck.
He didn't reply- merely cocking his head to the side. And he chuckled. The fucking nerve. His laughter echoed and tore her mind to pieces as she struggled to regain her composure. But, what was she supposed to do? Regain what composure? There was nothing which made sense, and therefore, she had no fucking clue who he was.
Was he the one- the voice who lured her? To what cost? Where was her sister now that she was here? The questions sickened her as she forced the tears clinging onto her lashes back.
"Please, I want my sister," She mumbled, blinking rapidly. "Just Astoria…"
Finally, a sense of emotion crossed his face. It was quick, but no doubt it was anger. And nothing could have prepared her for the shock and raw pain which inflicted her body. Flames licked her skin, and with a howl, she fell on her knees. Desperate, she began to thrash wildly, and she somewhat acknowledged the fact that blood coated her. The pain increased, and… and she felt as if she would faint any moment. But, she couldn't blackout. She wouldn't.
Her screams were foreign to her ears, filled with such raw intensity. It was maddening. She registered her vision becoming red slowly, and realized it was her blood which streamed down her rosy cheeks. Her sobs soon joined, but not shortly after it stopped. She couldn't fight it.
Her body slumped down, and black spots appeared on the corners of her vision. The haze made it impossible to see clearly, but she gathered her remaining strength and peeled her lashes back. His face looked disgusted, his lips pursed, and his hands locked together.
"Don't ever beg again," He hissed darkly, his steps matching one of a predator's; waiting for the perfect moment to strike once more.
He crouched in front of her, before laying a hand over her cheek. Disgusted, Daphne tried to lean away but she was in no position to fight. He knew she couldn't fight. So instead, hatred and rage boiled madly in her veins, her eyes hooded with revenge.
His gaze roamed her face before settling on her eyes. His eyes darkened. Fuck.
She knew the hand was coming before he had even raised it; the slap stung terribly. It felt as if he were physically beating the fight within her. And she couldn't fight it. No, she had no chance to do such a thing while lying helplessly on the ground.
Finally, he rose from the ground; no doubt his clothes were soaked in blood, and her tears. Just after he took one step away, he turned, and she cried out. Rolling over, she sobbed softly as his boot disappeared from view. This wasn't Draco. This wasn't her Draco. Who was he? Her- her best friend would never put her through this. For Astoria. This was the cost? She had a sinking feeling this was just the beginning.
Well, she'd gladly welcome hell and back. As many times as required to rescue her sister from this cold-hearted bastard; whoever this motherfucker is.
A/N 2: … Yea, this part left me kinda sad, I wished Daphne had more importance in the original books soooooo… I'm trying to more characters which weren't really looked upon. Just given a name, and blood-status lol. Anyways, hopefully you guys like this chapter! I will definitely try my hardest to get the next chapter out as fast as I can!