Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor "GoodNight".
Summary: AU. It was the day before Draco truly became of age to give up his youth to the Dark Lord. So as he dwells in the shadows of his room, his father throws a girl into his room. Both being prisoners to darkness, they only have each other to console.
Night of Memoir
He sat quietly in the comfort of his own chamber. The moon glimmered through his window, displaying its luminous bliss upon his pale flesh. Tonight would be the last time he would breathe for he would be diminished by tomorrow. His platinum, blond hair was short in the back, though a bit longer in the front giving off a sense of cunning and sex appeal. He lay on his bed, body sprawled, wearing emerald green boxers, and a black robe, revealing his toned chest.
He reminisced on his past: sneering at Mudbloods, receiving the dark mark, following his father's and Dark Lords every whim, the death of innocents, it seemed all so pleasurable. Though after thinking he was superior, pointing his wand in threatening motions, the tables turned. Now he was locked in his former room, wandless, awaiting his fate.
Draconis Lucian Malfoy broke away from his memories when his door was opened abruptly. Light spilled into the bleak room, and in stepped two figures. The first was Draco's father, Lucius, strutting in with a smirk. His whitish-blond hair framed his pointed face. Those silver, deceitful eyes, Draco inherited from his father, averted towards the other figure. All he could make out was that it was a slender woman, bound in a magical noose.
"Now Dragon, considering the circumstances, the Dark Lord permitted me to give you her," Lucius spat cockily while throwing the woman in front of him. "Take your time wisely before the sun raises my son."
"I'm not your son," Draco said hoarsely, "A father wouldn't take orders from someone weaker than him."
Lucius whipped out his cane-wand and hit it over Draco's head. "Don't you dare defy my actions!" With that, Lucius left and closed the tall wooden doors, binding them in magic. Draco's head throbbed as he reached his hand to his head. A warm liquid was present, though he pushed it off, his eyes focusing on the other figure.
He watched the figure arise shakily, letting out a small groan in pain. "Bloody prat," she muttered dangerously.
Draco observed the girl, his only light source the moon and cackling fire. She was no older than seventeen, having long, waist length, auburn, hair. Her eyes were an unusual shade of amber, and her skin seemed a bit darker then his, though was pale all in the same. "What are you looking at?" she snarled while straightening out her clothing. It consisted of a pair of slacks, and a ratty muggle sweatshirt.
Draco's face went from quizzical to hard. "Nothing interesting," he growled lowly while glaring at the girl.
"Good." She then crawled over towards the burning fire and drew her legs to her chest closely. Draco's face softened once again as he watched the headstrong girl shiver from the lack of warmth. He finally rolled his eyes and grabbed a blanket, handing it to her. Those amber eyes watered as they upturned towards his captivating silver gaze. "What, you're not going to slap me, attempt to rape me, kill me?"
Draco shook his head with a look of disgust, "Hitting a woman is degrading, rape is for low life bastards, and why kill when we'll die tomorrow?"
Both remained in silence when finally it was broken. "So you're not like the rest of them. The one that brought me in did two out of the three. He killed my family and slapped me when I cried while calling me a Mudblood."
"He's my father."
"You're not like him."
"That is the best compliment I've ever gotten."
She moved a loose strand of hair from her face while giving out her hand. "I'm Hermione."
"Draco," he responded while sitting down next to her. "Sorry about your family."
Hermione's eyes stung with tears, but she shook her head. "As you said, I'll die anyways and see them soon…"
Draco nodded, "That's true."
Hermione's face displayed a confused look as she rubbed her eyes dry. "When you said that we'll both die tomorrow, what did you mean?"
The former soldier of darkness raised an eyebrow, "Are you even a witch? I mean you'll die because you're a Mudblood-"
"Yes I am a witch, and know that I'm a Mudblood, but why will you die?"
Draco hissed, his face darkening into pure hatred. "None of your business!"He then got up and stalked off to his bed, lying in the black silk. A few odd minutes passed until Draco felt his mattress move next to him. He turned to meet Hermione gaze, her face showing an apologizing look. He sighed and nodded his head once more, and watched as Hermione's face light up in joy. She leaned towards him, her hands encircling his muscular torso, and her head resting upon his bare chest.
His silver eyes widened as this girl who he had known only for an hour gave him such warmth. Draco was definitely not use to that. Draco jumped away from her arms, making Hermione also move. "What are you doing?!" he asked, his passive face overwhelmed with shock.
Hermione's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "It's called a hug Draco."
Draco shivered, though retreated back to normal. "I know what it is," he snapped, "it's just strange…odd really."
"You're a bit nutters, do you know that?" Hermione asked while nestling towards Draco teasingly. He scooted away from her and glared.
"Why are you so touchy?"
Hermione giggled at his choice of words and shrugged. "We're all we have."
After two hours, Draco gave up and allowed Hermione to constantly pester him while snuggling in his warmth. Both lay quietly, listening to the hoots of owls and the occasional gong from the grandfather clock by Draco's room. Without knowledge, the teenager's position changed; both on their sides with Draco's arms wrapped around her petit waist, and Hermione safe in his arms, the black robes draping over her.
They made small talk to make time go by faster. The two talked about their favorite colors, where they grew up, and birthdays. "Your birthday is tomorrow?" Hermione asked.
"And you're going to be-" Though Hermione's mouth slammed shut. "Sorry."
"Too many apologies," he whispered while pulling back her escaped hairs. "Yes tomorrow is my birthday, and I'm going to be killed. Don't try and show my sympathy for I do this unwillingly under the Dark Lords orders."
"Voldemort," Hermione asked naively. Draco hissed in pain while grabbing his burning forearm.
"Don't say his name," he panted while clutching the searing mark. "I become of perfect age tomorrow where my blood won't be that of a child's but that of a man's. In order for the Dark Lord to presume living, I must be killed so he can have his youth restored."
Hermione gasped while getting up immediately. "But your parents-"
"It was the only reason I was born," Draco sighed while ruffling his hair. "I was born a sin."
She reached her hand out her his and they rested upon one another. "Are you afraid of death?"
"No," Draco merely stated, "I've been awaiting it since two years ago."
"I am," she whispered while curling up in a ball.
"Don't be," he said firmly, "We'll both die tomorrow. Your death will be quick with an Avada, but mine will be long and torturous."
Draco turned Hermione so she faced him. Numb tears fell down her face like rain, agonizing yet beautiful. "I'll miss you."
"Why," Draco asked with disbelief, "We don't even know each other."
"It doesn't matter if we don't know each other," Hermione cried solemnly, "I know it's silly, but I feel as if I've known you my whole life."
"As you said, we're all we have."
"It's not just that," she hiccupped while swallowing her sadness. "I fancy you Draco, I love you."
This was definitely a new feeling to Draco. Never in his life had an emotion like this sweep into his heart; after years of being so bitter, he wasn't hollow. He knew that over the past few hours he grew a certain fondness towards the girl, but he didn't realize it was so much more. Then came the unexpected side from him that he never knew he had.
Suddenly he tilted his head down and pressed his lips against hers. The contact between them seemed utterly strange, though for once something seemed right about this. A warm feeling rushed through both their bodies and touched the place that had been cold for so long.
Draco's arms ran down the length of her body and hugged her towards his chest. Hermione's body stiffened a little though relaxed in Draco's warm embrace. Her smooth hands glided upwards and wrapped around his pale neck. Their kisses were soft and slow at first, but became sweet and long after a few minutes in passion.
"We don't even know each other," he panted while staring deeply into her warm amber eyes.
"As I said, we're all we have," she gasped as Draco nipped at the base of her neck. As his hands reached her backside, she squirmed uneasily and turned her head.
Draco raised an eyebrow and stopped his antics, "What's wrong?"
Hermione's cheeks burned a crimson red as she refused to look him in the eye. "I…nemerf…"
"What?" he asked again while putting his ear to her lips.
"I've never done this…before," she whispered once more, her whole face red in embarrassment.
Draco shook his head as his head traced over her face, removing some loose strands of her hair. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to." He then removed his body from hers and lay on his side, giving a yawn.
They remained like that, a thick- heavy – silence between them.
The awkward minutes passed by until Hermione got up and rolled on top of Draco. Both were facing each other, their faces showing the utmost compassion. She had knelt her head down and kissed him shakily, then began assaulting his face with various amounts of attention.
Her lips began making a trail slowly down his neck, her tongue caressing his pale, now reddening, flesh. Draco's stormy silver eyes were closed as he gripped Hermione's waist with his hands. "Hermione," he whispered, "I haven't either." She smiled and silenced his words with a kiss.
Hermione shook her head and ran her heads over his toned chest. Her soft pristine hands skimmed his skin, tickling, but also burning him with every touch…
And their last night was spent with redemption and retribution. The two requited lovers spent as much time possible together, reciting their love in many ways. The night proved that a person could change at the point of death for Draco gave Hermione an heirloom: an emerald rind with a silver band.
Kisses were shared in their times of need and passion as the two forgot about what tomorrow would bring them. Tonight was all that mattered for they would be dead by the following day. As the grandfather clock stroke midnight, Hermione and Draco were found fully dressed in their once shed clothing, and in each others arms. Tears spilled from both their eyes, but they knew they would meet at some point.
"Goodnight," the whispered to each other while drying their eyes.
Goodnight, sleep tight
No more tears
In the morning I'll be here
And when we say goodnight,
Dry your eyes
Because we said goodnight,
And not goodbye
We said goodnight
And not goodbye
Draconis Lucian Malfoy's birthday and death was marked in history, for it was a day when against all odds, two people consoled each other's past wounds. It was a day of remembrance among those of the Wizarding world, because indeed as the sun rose, Hermione was killed before Draco's eyes. Draco was cut at the throat; his father bled him dry, and left him in a coffin.
Although sacrifices were made, they were thoroughly in vain because the Dark Lord and his minions were sentenced to death. A powerful wizard by the name of Dumbledore looked over the remains of the Dark Lord's lair and shook his head. Before him were the bodies of Hermione and Draco.
Their bodies were given a proper funeral, and any remaining artifacts were preserved by their graves. A bloodstained knife was permanently dug between the two graves, and a single silver chain wrapped around it containing a ring.
Sometimes at night, in Draco's room of the preserved Malfoy Manor, the warmth of love can be felt, and voices from the two can be heard, whether it was quarreling or that of adore.
Though after the night of giving themselves up to each other, complete strangers, in the morning an empty bed was all that was left from that fateful day, unkempt, and the night of memoir lingering through the air…
Hey guys, Saiyachick here once again. This was stuck in my mind, about what if Draco had to be a sacrifice to the dark lord. Read and Review people, I'm out.