Callous Culprits - A Dramione Fan Fiction.

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

A small baby looked lovingly into the eyes of it's cooing parents, innocent fingers grappling at enlarged thumbs.

The cosy muggle home shone in the dull light of an English afternoon. The radio mellowed in the background, both parents watching the child through exaggerated pupils as they bobbed along to the famous melody, coy giggles escaping the lips of the mother- her mousy hair worn in tight ringlets. The mothers grip slackened on the child slightly as she kissed her husband through smiling lips.

All of a sudden, the picturesque family seemingly melted away like burnt redemption, leaving instead a darkened frame. Tortured screams replaced what once had been joyous laughter, sobs the melodic tune there weakened limbs preformed a twisted cabaret to.

The child was now clutched by spindly talons of something inhuman, transparent skin revealing protruding veins. Hardened nails dug into the soft flesh of innocence, a shriek piercing it's lips.

Muggle born- but she didn't die.

Hermione was flung from her sleep, a cold sheen of sweat covering her forehead. It was the same dream, night after night. What made her skin crawl was that in this surprisingly lucid dream she was the quivering child- the mudblood. Her sweaty palms traced through her matted locks as she exhaled: she was not a mudblood, but why did it feel so real?

She felt strong hands enclose on her shoulders which caused her to shiver, but it was only the pale eyed Malfoy, who's thumbs traced patterns on the bare skin of her collar bone.

"Nightmares? Again?"

Hermione could just detect the discreet sneer in his tone but chose to ignore it, resting her tight curls on his shoulder.

"It makes me look weak doesn't it?"

"It makes you look human- only you can decide if that makes you weak or ultimately strong."

For a tranquil moment, they seemed vulnerable - holding each other's untold queries - and it made Hermione itch. Especially after the torrent of nightmares, she needed to feel the power coursing through her veins, the kind of power she felt when the filthy mudbloods whimpered.

"We should clean out the basement before it begins to smell."

She planted a soft kiss on his hazy lips before sliding from the sheets, shrugging on the maroon cardigan and black jeans she had picked the night before. She looked like the picture of innocence as she heaved the brass key into the lock that held their secret - the kitsch carpet thrown to one side to reveal the trap door.

Her slender frame snaked into the dully lit premises, the stench of decaying flesh making her nose wrinkle. She approached the body, peering down at the sickly green face. A small smile hitched at her lips as she shook her curls defiantly, a cackle even bubbling from her throat: she was not some pathetic mudblood doomed to be a helpless corpse - she was a pureblood, dedicated to her kind. With a flick of her skilled wand, the body set alight.

She watched with smug glee as the flesh began to tare from the bone, a soft squelching noise crackling in the flame. The hollow features of the corpse began to deform, melting into singed meat, oozing and bubbling.

Nothing was as strong as Hermione's pleasure when she watched the filthy blood boil - nothing but her love for Draco.

But something told her she could not confide in him the recurring dreams until she was certain - certain she was one of them.

She left the ebony pile of burnt life to burn its course - she would find out the truth, whatever it cost her.