𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞 [COMPLETED]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I handed a Styrofoam cup of tea to Harry, which he takes gratefully, taking a sip.

"Thanks, Draco. How is she?" Harry asks. 

"She's stable. But she's going to have a lot of scarring. And it's going to take her some time to heal." I inform him. "Both physically and mentally." 

Harry nodded, his eyes dead. 

"What happened with Ron?" I ask, taking a seat across from him. 

"Ginny cursed him a few more times, more brutal than the bat-bogey hex. Then she apparated him to Mrs. Weasley, and she cursed him into oblivion. Somehow he summoned enough concentration to disapparate. We don't know where he is anymore. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. If Hermione wakes up and asks for me, tell her I'm attending Ministry business." 

"Draco, it's nothing to worry about. He's gone. Hermione's back and she's...okay." Harry says, standing up. 

"Harry, he's just going to keep coming back. He's going to take her again, and make sure he doesn't mess up this time. And this time we might not be able to find her." I argue. 

Harry sighs. "Just...be careful."

I smirk. "I always am."

I disapparate.

-

I walk up the stairs to the porch, and knock on the door. 

When Weasley opens it, I punch him in the face. Hard. 

He's shocked to see me, but he fumbles for his wand, but I slap it out of his hand. Every ounce of self control I had was long gone. The mental image of Hermione tied up to his bed fueled my anger. 

I wanted Weasley dead. I needed Weasley dead.

I grab him by the front of his robes with one hand, and punch him again. 

"How many times did you hit Hermione? How many? Because that's how many times I'm going to hit you," I grit out. 

I already knew that I was going to murder him. I didn't care if the blood was on my hands. I didn't care if I was arrested. But I'd do it for her. I'd do it for Hermione. 

I apparated, clutching Ron. 

"Why the fuck did you bring me to a beach?" Ron barks out, attempting to get out of the water I had just apparated him into.

I smirk and raise my wand and yell, "Crucio!" 

He screams and howls in pain. 

"Sorry, I should've brought rope and duct tape," I snarl. 

I let go, and crucio him again. 

Five minutes later, he's dead. I drowned him. I killed Ronald Weasley. And not an ounce of guilt coursed through me.