Death and Devotion
“Explain it again.”
“I have to become queen before tomorrow, or I die, but the kingdom I rule will be cursed with insurmountable death and destruction,” Hermione summarized.
“So, the lions exiled you.”
“It was my idea to leave. We knew what would happen if I married King Harry. Ron just saw it as an opportunity to stop you as well.”
“You mean to kill me.”
“We thought you worked for Voldemort! I never-” Hermione clamped her mouth shut.
“Finish that sentence,” Draco growled, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at him. “That's an order.”
“I never thought I’d fall in love with you,” she whispered, watching grief cross his features before he turned his back to her. “Please,” she begged, “let me die.”
“I will not.”
“Think of your people! I’m nothing.”
“This isn’t Gryffindor. I won’t accept your martyrdom.”
“You fool,” she derided. “Harry understood. If the roles were reversed, he would've died for me!”
“But I’ll kill for you!” Draco roared as he turned around. She gasped at his confession before he calmly continued, “Maybe I am a fool because I’ll gladly burn my entire kingdom to the ground and damn every last person for you. To hell with duty or responsibility or any of your other excuses. I’d sacrifice myself at the devil’s altar just to get one more day with you. You. Are. Everything.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as he pleaded, “Marry me.” She shook her head, but there was a reason he was Slytherin's king. He knew exactly where to strike. “If you let yourself die, I’ll ensure Voldemort’s success.”
“No,” she sobbed.
He kneeled in front of her and gently held her hands. “So, I'll ask again. Will you marry me, Hermione?”
“Yes,” she whispered as her heart shattered.