Thread: Hero - Sa16+
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Old 09-19-2007, 09:30 PM   #1 (permalink)
dracoismysmexyone
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Join Date: Jul 2007
Location: In a strange and unfair world.
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Hogwarts RPG Name:
Antigone Michaels
Second
heart Hero - Sa16+

Hi everybody! this is my 3rd FF, and my second one-shot. In a way, this is a song-fic for Hero by Enrique Iglesias. But only to an extent. I only used the chorus, and I made one allusion to the first verse. It doesn't really follow the plot of Hero, but it does in a way, and I thought it was a good title. It's Dramione, no real surprise. And yes, I did write this in my math class again. So, enjoy!

Hero


The Dark had won. Voldemort had overthrown the Magical world, and the last fragments of the Light sat in the dark misery of Azkaban, most awaiting execution. One such witch lay huddled in her cell, her matted brown hair sticking to her face with the glue of blood and tears. The bones in her cheeks and forehead had become sharp and prominent from her extensive weight loss. This creature, who now looked worse than she ever had, had once been a beautiful, intelligent young woman named Hermione Granger.

A human guard came. He unlocked the door of the cell, and the hinges creaked back, groaning with the pain that the building had held over the ages. Hermione didn’t look up at the sound, and the guard kicked her shin, hard, to get her attention.

“Come on, you filthy mudblood, they’re waiting.” Hermione’s head rose, and though her body was broken and defeated, fire shone in her eyes.

“I will come,” she said, “and I will die. But I will die proud, and strong, because you can hurt me all you want, but you can’t break me.” She stood, pulling herself up on her feet, her weakened muscles straining with the effort. She held her head high, and walked alongside the guard down the aisle of the prison, diverting her eyes from the torturing of her comrades in the cells she passed. The guard led her out of the door, and onto a large, gray moor. Clouds covered the sun, and though it was mid-morning, the sky was dark. A man, in a hooded black robe stood to their right. He seemed familiar, though Hermione couldn’t see his face. The guard turned to the hooded man.

“She’s a difficult one, sir. One of Potter’s little inner-group. She says we can’t break her.”

The man spoke. “I know who she is. Your work here is done. You may return to your position.” Hermione knew that voice. The guard nodded at the hooded man, and shuffled back through the door.

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. So, you’re a Death Eater after all,” Hermione said collectedly.

The man took off his hood. A jagged cut outlined his cheek, but the face was indeed that of Hermione’s blonde enemy at Hogwart’s. “Yes. And I’ll be the death of you. Don’t fear, little Mudblood, I can break you.”

The blaze in Hermione’s eyes was burning out. Because she was not stupid. She knew, she knew, that Draco could break her, even if no one else could. He could toy with her emotions, he always had. She lowered her head, trying to hide her growing fear. Draco felt two things as the girl in front of him lost her courage. Power, beyond anything he ever imagined, coursed through him; charging the air, it seemed, till pure strength surrounded them. But the feeling that accompanied the power was one Draco had never felt before. Shame. Ashamed of who he was, what he had become, and what he was about to do. What he must do. And what, he realized, he did not want to do.

What was this? What was this girl doing to him? Blood pounded in his head as he raised his right arm, his wand clutched in his trembling hand. He pointed the wand at Hermione’s heart, every instinct he had telling him to stop. Draco felt the words slip out. “Avada Kedavra!” Suddenly, Hermione brought her head up, her shattered soul showing through her chocolate eyes.

She crumpled to the ground. Draco knelt at her side. He took her hand, and he kissed her. He could feel her dying against his lips, and he let her go. Caught up in the emotion, Draco began to sing, cradling her head in his lap.

“I can be your hero, baby,” he sang softly, beginning to sob. “I can kiss away the pain. I will stand by you forever. You can take my breath away.” He didn’t understand, he had always hated Hermione. And now here he was holding her dead body, his kiss on her lips, and his song to her in his throat. Why was it her who made him regret his crimes? Because her life, that he himself had ended, had suddenly become more important than his own. Her life, that had meaning, and purpose, and laughter, was worth so much more than his empty life of violence and hate. How dare he take her life away? How dare he?

As he stroked her hair, he knew what he must do. He grabbed for his wand. Pointing the wand at his own heart, he muttered the final spell, the Killing curse. Draco died with Hermione in his arms, because even though he broke her, she was the destructive force, that ultimately broke him.
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