Fallen Dynasty (Dramione)

Twenty-Two - The Right Path

À la folie.

To insanity.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Sometimes it's not just the heart that breaks.

It's the mind too.

Hermione could feel this — the hatred, the rage, the darkness — swirling and sinking into her soul. It consumed her entirely, her mind racing with only thoughts of destruction and revenge.

She was falling deeper into it.

She struggled to process it all and she mourned — she mourned the life they were given, what they could've had, what they didn't, what was taken from them. Ripped from their hands as they clung to the disintegrating pieces of it. Gone like dust in the wind.

They could've been happy.

They could've been so much more than what they were now — discarded and disposable pieces of a game of chess they were forced to play. For a cause neither one of them believed in. Causes that ruined them and forsaken them.

Hermione Granger was the up and coming brightest witch of her age with wit well beyond her years and a goal in life to become a loud and prominent voice for the people at the ministry. Now, her encyclopedic knowledge was wasted as she became war shrapnel for a man who pretended to be her friend.

Draco Malfoy was born into a dynasty of wealth and fortune, a bright future of success, and a bloodline that was purer than the snow white hair on their heads. Now, as the world knew, that dynasty — that near royal bloodline — was gone forever.

After Draco died, nothing made sense anymore. How could the sun still rise every morning? How could the tides still touch the sand? How could the moon still shine so brightly when everything else in her world was so dim?

How?

The world never stopped turning and she was angry for it. Furious that while her universe stopped on its axis, everyone else's continued. She couldn't find herself to forgive them for that.

They weren't broken too.

So, she wanted to break them. Shatter them. Destroy them.

She wanted them to feel like she felt — like someone had disassembled her then hurriedly put her back together with no care or concern. She was a puzzle that had a missing piece and no matter how hard she searched for it, it was gone for good. She felt like she wasn't Hermione Granger-Malfoy anymore. She was some replica that wasn't quite right. Would never be right again.

Things were ripped from her in more ways then one.

Things she never spoke of.

Things Draco didn't have the slightest clue about.

Things she longed to tell him.

Things she knew he would burn the world over.

And, maybe, she never wanted to utter the words out loud. To speak the terrible truth. To make it real.

But, it was real.

This was her story to tell, even if she hated that it was.