A Kingdom Beside the Sea (Dramione)

Chapter 4

 Seventeen

Potter had been right at the trial. Draco had lowered his wand. He thought the memory would always be clear for him, but it wasn't. He remembered it in pieces, flashes of images. He had rarely known a deeper fear than he had that night, on that tower. There had been hope, though. For just a moment, when he thought Dumbledore could save him when no one else could, when he was failing to. He would never see those red eyes ripping through to his soul again. He and his parents could get help from a side willing to imprison them over killing them. They could leave, disappear, and he would never have to come back to that place inside of him again. He yearned for it. Wanted nothing more in the entire world at that moment than to be safe.

But then they were there, storming up the stairs, and it had been too late. He couldn't move, could hardly speak, hope zapping from him with the kick to his gut. He still couldn't do it, couldn't kill him. Not even with them there, watching and waiting, reminding him of why he had to. In that shaking, crumbling, exploding moment, everything he ever believed had felt like a lie. It wasn't enough. Getting rid of the Mudbloods, gaining respect and power, taking back what belonged to them. None of it came close to touching something worth it. Except for his parents, himself – but even then he had failed them all. He couldn't hate enough to kill.

He remembered the stars glimmering off Dumbledore's robes as he fell back into the sky. His black-burnt hand, white hair catching in the wind, the blow-back of death and sulfur. There had been a tangible loss in that pause of death, as if Draco could feel the greatness and power suck from the room as his Headmaster fell. It was the beginning of war – something dark and terrible twisting up his heart before he was half-dragged from the room, the halls of Hogwarts, his home. His heart shattered in his throat, his eyes burning, his life wide and cold as it ended with a deadly beginning. He didn't recognize it, or himself, or the thoughts in his head.

And he learned that he wasn't a hero. Not for anyone.

"Malfoy. Malfoy, wake up. You better not be pretending to be dead, I feel your heart beating." A push of skin against his own, into his neck, and a brush of hair across his cheek. "Hey. Draco. Earth to Draco."

He groaned, pulling his eyes open. Granger's face was hovering above his,

concern in the lines on her forehead. He stared at her for a moment in silence, collecting himself to concentrate through the pounding pressure.

"All right?" she whispered. "I tried to get you something that would wake you up, or a pain draught, but I see you don't label anything."

Shit. She had been in the room while he was passed out on the floor, unable to-- Draco shot up, nearly knocking his head into hers, and had to smack a hand into the wall to center the spin. He clenched his fists, his hands empty, and his eyes flashed to hers. She stood quickly, his wand in her hand. Shit.

His gaze slowly traveled up the expanse of her shirt, her face, meeting her eyes. "You're probably hoping it doesn't work for me. It works all right. I'm still surprised Harry gave it back to you – it did well by him, didn't it? Granted, there were other things at play." She ran her thumb over the wood, her nose scrunching, and Draco wondered if he could tackle her for it. "It's funny, though. You using it still. It was one of those things that said more than you could when you started working at the Department. The fact that you would use it after what it helped to do."

Draco got to his feet slowly, pushing his hair back from his face as he watched her, scrutinizing her movements. It had been a stupid move. He should have eaten something first, taken the potion, and then tried to take down the wards. He had been too impulsive and now he was screwed. He didn't know if the wand would work well enough for her to dismantle the wards around the house, or if she could even figure out how first. But if he had to take it from her, he would. Not now, when it might work well enough to hex him, but she had to sleep some time.