Eighteen - The Armory

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Urbes constituit aetas, hora dissolvit

Lifetime builds up cities, a single hour ruins them.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

In chess, the queen's job is to protect the king.

That's was Hermione's job once upon a time; protect Draco at all costs.

During their time in the Order and after his parent's death, Draco was even more hot-headed than before, seemingly burning at a thousand degrees at all times on the field. He was running on the thought of revenge, a never ending loop of how to get even. Once his occlumency walls were up and he was on the field of battle, he had a violent, uncontrollable temper that was red-hot and unpredictable. It was dangerous.

Hell, he was the definition of the word — dangerous.

He would slash anyone's throat. Snap anyone in half. Murder anyone on sight without a second thought. No one could bleed enough to fulfill his vision of justice and karma.

He was a broken, shattered mess. A beautiful disaster. Instinctual. Impetuous. Never thought anything through. He was the very opposite of Hermione and it drove her insane.

It made her feel even more crazy when she looked his demons in the eye and found peace that first time. She wasn't supposed to like it — his chaos— but she did.

She justified all the blood, the scars, the death, because she loved the person holding the knife. She liked the fact that he would do all these things for their cause.

But, that fact also worried her. She worried that his motto of act quickly or die would one day get him killed.

She was right.

She failed at the game of chess. She let her king get killed. She didn't save him in time and let him walk into a trap. She was supposed to be the brains, leading the one with the bleeding heart into safety. She wasn't smart enough - quick enough - and he was killed for it.

She recalled how loud it was when her heart broke all over again the day she awoke in the hospital room and remembered who had died, how she was disturbed no one turned to look at what caused such a dreadful, violent sound, then she remembered the eerie silence that came after. It was a deafening ringing that suffocated and snuffed out every other noise, like a pipe bomb exploded next to her ears and destroyed all of her dreams and aspirations. It left her with nothing.

She barely heard the sorrow filled news that left Madam Pomfrey's mouth, confirming what she already knew and dreaded. She scarcely heard her promise to never mention it to another soul before she left the room. She never heard the lectures that came tumbling from Ron and Harry's mouth - about the suicide mission they sent them on - before she was sent to solitary nor the steel door slamming shut behind her when they shoved her inside.

She remembered the faint, dull ache in her knees as her legs shook and gave way, colliding with the pavement before she continued to fall forward. She didn't even brace her body for the impact, only turning her head at the last second out of pure instinct. She hardly felt the fracture splinter across her cheek bone and nose as she stared blankly at the stone wall to the right of her.

Her body heaved and trembled with sobs for hours before she finally gained her hearing back.

Someone was screaming; a guttural, heart wrenching cry that vibrated through her bones. It was a loud, piercing shriek of grief and mourning that made her blood run cold. It sounded exhausted and raspy, yet never lost it's power to stab right through her chest.

Fallen Dynasty (Dramione) Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora