Fallen Dynasty (Dramione)

Twenty-Four - The Tears Ricochet

Per aspera ad astra

Through the thorns, to the stars.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Hermione sat in silence as she stirred the ingredients into her bubbling, hot cauldron, her thoughts weighing down on her shoulders like a heavy burden.

She was glad she had her moments of quiet after her breakdown just hours earlier. She knew if she kept on blubbering and looking into his perfect eyes, she would tell him everything. Spill out every feeling and thought while her mouth rambled until the point of suffocation, her lungs not able to keep up with the devotion she would put on display for him.

How she thought of him constantly, obsessively, incessantly...

How she ached for him with maddening, sometimes overwhelming hunger.

How he was planted into her chest, burrowed deep beneath her bones, and nestled inside her barely beating heart.

How her memories held a gun to her head daily and demanded that she bring him back from the dead. How her once brilliant mind was her own worst enemy.

How badly she wanted to reach inside his mind and wretch forward their memories, so he could hold her like he once did. Look at her like he once did. Kiss her...

She would be selfish.

She would spiral out of control for Draco Malfoy, but she knew she could not. Whether he knew it or not, he depended on her sanity for the both of them, so Hermione Granger could not spiral. Could not shatter. Could not collapse. No matter how badly the heart and mind demanded it. No matter how much the nervous breakdown tried to force its way in.

She would stay upright, stable, and steadfast until there was no more use for it. Then — only then — could Hermione Granger combust, like the incandescent stars burning and bursting in the firmament. The very heavens would fall as she brought hell from the depths of the earth.

She would rise from the ashes, but the burning came first. Yes. She would burn them all because she loved him and loving him was the beginning and the end of everything. Even herself. If she was on fire, then they would be made of ashes too

As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day, but it certainly burned in one. All great and powerful things must come to an end.

She would be their end.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

When Hermione emerged from the potions room, she searched the grounds for the rest of the boys. It was quiet, too quiet. She eventually found them in one of the sitting rooms, Draco and Theo sat nearest to the fire to combat the shivering that was overtaking them, a fever deeply set. Blaise and Neville sat towards the corner of the room, a riveting game of Wizards Chess between them. Neville's bishop was just then clobbering one of Blaise's knights when she rounded the corner, hearing the quiet cries of outrage escaping Blaise's mouth.

Draco's eyes were transfixed on the fire, a dancing orange blaze, and it reflected in his stony eyes. When he heard her footsteps, he weakly turned his head towards her and regarded her with a loud sniffle and weak twitch of his lips. Theo turned at the same time and an exasperated sigh of impatience and relief fell from his mouth.