He had cornered her in the dungeons. She was quick in gathering her things, knowing that her friends were waiting for her outside the classroom, when a strong hand grabbed hers and she found herself looking up at his face. "Malfoy-" she muttered, annoyed.

Saying nothing, his eyes just traveled on her, from her eyes and onto her mouth. Then, he said, "How can I prove myself to you?"

"Wh-what?" What was he saying?

He shook her then, and her grip loosened, her papers and quills cascading noiselessly to the cold floor. "Mudblood," he said, his voice low. "Worthless, nothing." But his hold on her tightened, his touch branding her skin.

Outraged, she could only glare at him in sudden silence. Then she opened her mouth to yell at him, only the words didn't come.

They didn't come because he kissed her then, his mouth hot and heavy and hard on hers.

Just as quick, his assault stopped. Breathing heavily, unknowing what he was going to do next, she could only stare at him.

"Mudblood," he muttered again. Tracing her lips with his thumb he asked, "How can I prove myself to you?"

And before she could answer, he had already gone.


She was in the library, trying to forget what had happened, knowing she couldn't. Her books were filled with words she couldn't understand. She couldn't keep her hands from trembling, her eyes from seeking him out.

What was he doing? What had he done?

Her answer came, walking lazily towards her. His stance was natural, and yet his expression was different.

"Mudblood," he announced, stopping by her place. Without another word he toppled the tower of books on her table, letting them fall noisily on the floor.

"Bastard!" she hissed. And as she bent to get them, he left, his laughter echoing in the halls.

And that's when she saw a piece of paper casually folded and inserted with her things.

They're coming. Tonight.
Be careful.


And come they did.

And she felt guilty, because she did not warn the others - how could she, when she did not have any proof, nothing but the neatly scrawled words in his handwriting?

But there was no time for regrets; only life and survival mattered now.

And despite her powers, her knowledge, she was caught.

Arms tied behind her back, she was dragged, to be delivered to the Dark Lord at once. A jewel, she was called. She will be their downfall.

"I'll take her," he said.

And she was thrust into his arms without another word.

She sucked in her breath, wincing as he unknowingly pressed on the bruises on her body. She could see the path that should be taken if she were to be delivered to the Dark Lord.

But then, what's this? "Where are we going?" she asked, wanting to know the answer, afraid of what it might be.

"I'll help you escape," he muttered.

Cunningly, they dodged the enemies for as long as they could. Her heart hammered in her chest, in agony, in fear, in confusion. Tears were unwanted, but they fell from her eyes.

"Trust me," he muttered.

She couldn't. She couldn't.

But her fate was in his hands.

Freedom was within their reach. Just a few steps more… a few steps more…

"Where are you going, boy?"

And before another word was spoken, the man was killed.

She gasped, then looked at him.

"You have to go," he said hoarsely.

They could hear footsteps coming towards them. Frantic, he untied her hands. "You have to go," he repeated.

But before she could take a step, he pulled her to him, and kissed her.


He pushed her away. "Run," he said. "Run!"

"What about you?"

He shook his head. "Nothing can save me now." He traced her lips and said, "Run!"

And she did.

"Traitor! He set her free!"

"He killed one of us!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

How can I prove myself to you?

"You did," she whispered. "You did."

Straightaway I was 'ware, so weeping,
how a myastic shape did move behind me
and drew me backward by the hair…

'guess now who holds thee.
Death I said.
But there the silver answer rang
not Death, but Love…

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning