Fallen Dynasty (Dramione)

Eight - The Truth

Veritatem dies aperit

Time reveals the truth.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Hermione could hear the screams all night long even when her pillow was smushed against her ear as hard as she could manage.

She laid there in a cold sweat, her eyes wide, staring at the door as they seemed to echo around the house, bouncing off the walls before ringing out again— a never ending cycle of screams of torture.

She should have known that Astoria being here was not a good thing. She should have known that Draco would carry out the most violent form of revenge for his parents, no matter how high the Greengrass' were. She was sure that Voldemort wouldn't even bat an eyelash at anything his perfect Reaper made an excuse for, wouldn't even notice that Astoria was missing, or care to hear the persistent whining from her parents.

What was another murder to him?

She's sure Draco could make something up to reason with her violent death.

She figured it was early in the morning when they finally stopped and she was able to shut her eyes, trying to block out the residual haunting noise. She wished Draco would have placed a muffliato charm so she didn't have to endure this hell.

She awoke with a restless, twitchy unease, hands still trembling from all of the activities from the day before. After dressing and readying herself, she exited her bedroom and made her way down the stairs, making sure to listen for any sign of life before making her way down.

Though she took precautions, she jolted and froze as she entered the dining hall to see two figures sitting there.

"Ah, Granger," Draco smirked, his thin mouth twisted maliciously. "Come sit." He beckoned her forward as her eyes watched the back of the brunette's head, sitting perfectly still. Her eyes flickered to Draco's in shock, watching as his smirk widened.

No one is supposed to know she's alive.

"Thank you," she mumbled, trying her hardest to be courteous, shuffling her feet forward to sit in the chair next to Draco, the one he motioned to.

"Care to greet our guest," he gestured to Astoria and Hermione turned, only to let out a strangled shout of shock, her hand slapping over her mouth.

No longer was the pristine beauty sitting there. In her place was a disfigured woman, beaten with her mouth looking magically sewn shut and watery eyes begging — pleading — for her to help her. Her trembling hands laid against the table, unable to move.

Hermione let out a shaky exhale before inhaling quickly, eyes darting away from her to look back over at Draco, not able to stomach it any longer.

She had had her fair share of deaths and injuries, but seeing her looking over at her so terrified and broken, Hermione couldn't bare it anymore.

Maybe because she resembled herself.

"Miss. Greengrass learned a wonderful lesson last night, Granger." His tone was light and mocking as he placed a spoonful of eggs onto Hermione's plate.

"H-How..." she gulped, picking up her fork while trying to steady her voice. "How so?"

"She learned our words, especially our families, have consequences," Hermione tried to ignore the whimper from the other end of the table that slowly evolved into muffled sobs. "And we don't stick our noses into other people's business unless we are ready to deal with the repercussions of our actions. Regardless of my family's... disloyalty."