Left Behind (A Dramione Romance)

The Photograph

Draco Stepped toward Hermione.

You need to do this for her, he told himself

Better you than Bellatrix, he reasoned.

Better you than Greyback.

Better you than Voldemort.

He told himself that he was her best option. It was the truth.

At the same time it was better for her it was worse for him.

I don't want to, his chest ached. I can't hurt her-not again.

You don't have a choice, you owe it to her to protect her, after what she's already been through.

Don't let it be worse.

Don't let them maim her permanently just to save yourself discomfort.

It was more than discomfort. What he had to do tore into him.

Draco closed his eyes for a brief moment and when he opened them he shut his mind down completely.

One by one he cast the spells.

One by one he hurt her to save her.

Each spell, each attack, made her look more bloodied and worn.

Fresh bruises appeared on her skin and despite his mental shut down, Draco felt them echo in his heart.

Bellatrix snake spell rolled over Hermione. Each viper slithered and bit feasting on the pain. It took a moment for Draco to understand that's what the snake enchantments were doing: Feeding on and creating pain. Like fat leaches they fell off one by one when they had bloated sucking up as- much of her agony as their bodies would allow.

She's evil, he thought sparing his aunt a glance only to see her crazed with glee.

You're just as bad as her, his mind echoed back.

Granger's muffled cries gurgled though the spell Voldemort had put on her tongue.

Draco knew those sounds would haunt him forever.

He wanted it to be over, but he couldn't stop, for fear it wouldn't be deemed 'enough'

He had to keep going, keep hurting her so that he could convince the Dark Lord of his hate for the mudblood.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but in reality was about twenty minute the Dark Lord grew bored of watching and waved his hand for it to cease.

Relief spread though Draco's skin with all the solace of slicing razors.

Draco wanted to vomit.

It took everything he had to control his stomach and maintain the illusion that he was fine and had, had 'fun'.

Snape stood slowly from his place at the table, picking up the camera.

"Hold her," the headmaster said in his usual tone.

Draco picked Hermione off the ground and held her up by her hair.

She so much as flinch or even try to struggle.

"Make her writhe," the Dark Lord ordered.

Draco cast a small curse inflicting just enough pain that strained and wriggled in his arms for the photograph.

You will never be forgiven for this, he told himself, and you don't deserve to be, you're a monster.

Snape's face was placid, his demeanor cool.