Nine - The Murder of Draco Malfoy (Flashback One)

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TW: dark themes and violent descriptions. Proceed with caution.

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Magna est veritas et prævalebit

Truth is mighty and will prevail.

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Hermione stared out onto the estate's vast land from the balcony, her body still seething with rage. Her shaking hands clenched into fists at her side periodically as she tried to focus on the breeze — anything really — blowing her curls back.

That day flowed through her mind unrelenting as she picked apart every piece of it. She had done this often in the beginning, but new clarity opened more possibilities in the actions of everyone that day.

She closed her eyes, breaking down the walls of her occlumency, and tears streamed down her face as she did so.

It was like all the filing cabinets of her mind were broken open, papers fluttering down as she ripped them out, scanning through every piece with the utmost focus.

She had to be certain.

She had to be sure her friends and Order members murdered her husband.

That morning was like any normal morning, but that's what they all say right? Every morning that ends in tragedy always starts off completely normal.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Flashback

Hermione wiped the sweat off her brow, the sparring dummy laid in pieces at her feet. She had been training all morning, like she did most mornings she was at the Order Headquarters.

Draco was down the hall grabbing coffee for the two of them. Waking up earlier always left him cranky and irritable and they had been up since four in the morning, the summer sun too intense for their normal mid afternoon run.

Hermione winced as she rubbed out a stitch in her side, stretching to make it go away quicker. The door swung open and she turned to see still shirtless Draco enter, a furrow deeply placed on his blonde brow.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, the pain in her ribs forgotten as she immediately knew the look on his face wasn't good.

He stood there for a second, mind elsewhere, before his conflicted eyes flickered over to his wife. He scanned her over as if taking her in — savoring her — before his expression changed — face softened.

She should've known those blue eyes that were normally calm and collected around her were still a raging ocean. She should've seen it.

"Nothing, babe. Don't worry about it," he handed her her coffee with a kiss on her forehead. She took the steaming cup, her fingers twitching as the heated porcelain warmed her hands a bit too quickly. The smell of the coffee almost made her toes curl and she took a long sip, humming in satisfaction at the fact that he always made her coffee perfectly.

They were soul mates. That much she was sure of.

She watched his back muscles flex and twitch as he turned from her, stretching his tense body. She should've known he was ignoring her gaze on purpose.

His brow was still furrowed as he suddenly spun and kicked the other training dummy in the side, much harder than normal. She watched it fly across the room and hit the wall before her eyes darted towards his face again.

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