Fallen Dynasty (Dramione)

Twenty-Five - The Defiance

Ex igni natus

Born from fire

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The days following the news of Harry's growing opposition were a hazy blur. An argumentative, insufferable, holy terror-filled blur — to Draco and Hermione and to everyone who wasn't Draco and Hermione.

While Hermione pushed for her revenge, Draco shoved back equally as hard. The thought of her being one reckless decision away from dying on the field ate away at his thoughts constantly, sending his mind reeling and causing his nerves to be shot. It didn't help that she was constantly bringing it up, trying to change his point of view on the matter. She was utterly and truly relentless.

"I said no, Granger," he hissed for seemingly the millionth time, slamming his fist down on the table in front of him. "How am I to explain the likes of you storming onto the field of battle, striking down the Order, and coming back from the dead to Voldemort, hmm? You coming along will only get all of us killed! You are only Harry Potter's Golden Girl after all!" He shouted, barely earning a flinch from Hermione, who stood with her arms crossed and was glaring daggers towards his direction across the table.

"I'm not his Golden Girl," she spat back, earning an exhausted and exasperated groan from him. He raked his hands through his blonde hair and tugged at the ends as he paced, his Death Eater robes kissing the floor with each pass.

"Get it through your thick, swotty head! You're supposed to be dead! Not killing Harry Potter. Dead. I killed you publically so you would be safe, not so you could go get yourself actually killed!" he roared. His chest heaved with every breath.

"I can wear a mask and robes! I can disillusion myself or take a polyjuice! Stop trying to stop me!" She shrieked back, equally as infuriated as he was. She didn't understand. She was so close, yet he was stopping her at every turn. "I was the main soldier for the Order. I can stay alive. I can do this! I can do this." She spoke maniacally, fervently like a woman at prayer. She held chaos in her eyes and fire in her voice. She was a hurricane ripping and tearing through everything in her wake.

Unluckily for her, that was Draco on a good day.

He was her match, equally as stubborn and explosive in every way. Warped and twisted were the pair.

"My answer is no," He stepped closer to her, fury written all over his scarred face. His menacing eyes stared her down as his words ripped through her. "If I have to have this discussion again or you try and get smart and defy me, I will have no choice but to make you feel like the prisoner you are. Learn your place, Granger, and know it quick."

"You let me go on a mission once already and it was fine! Why not let me try again? I can finish this, Draco. Draco, please," She surged forward and gripped onto the front of his robe with a dangerous hold. She continued to stare up at him with wide, maddening eyes, the desire for blood swirling precariously in her honey-brown irises.

It always amazed him how honey and wildfire were the same shades of gold.

"That was with trusted allies of our cause, not with Death Eaters that want to pick their teeth with the slivers of your bones! Do you understand how many rejoiced at the mere thought of your death at my hands? There was a three-day-long party thrown in my honor. If they see you, I might not be able to stop them from ripping you to pieces. I cannot—I will not have that happen."