This takes place during Deathly Hallows, as sort of a "what if...?" story. In this case, what if Malfoy, sickened by his fellow Death Eaters' cruelty and pushed to the brink by watching a schoolmate tortured, lashed out? Let's face it, he didn't seem particularly eager to help Voldemort's cause in that last book. To the contrary, it was almost as if he wanted to help Harry, but was too afraid to really act.
I am going to be referencing things that happened earlier in the book and series, so this story is probably best for those who have read book 7.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything... even an original or witty disclaimer. Poor me! Woe! *angst like Harry*
Chapter 1: Out of the Manor
Hermione crumpled to the floor of Malfoy Manor, pain coursing through her veins in waves of fire and chill. She knew she was screaming, (for her throat burned, too,) but she couldn't hear anything over the maddening buzzing in her head, her ears, her mind... She saw nothing but flashes of color and shadow. Her tortured mind could piece together no comprehensible thought, only the pain, pain, fiery, freezing pain, and the screaming buzz that had filled her mind.
Then there was only dark.
She was sure that she had fainted, perhaps, or even died, until she felt herself yanked up from the marble floor and thrown over a shoulder. She tried to protest, to get down, but she could barely move at all. She gave up, and slumped as the person holding her began to run, carrying her away.
Gradually she began to hear again. Voices were screaming all around, deep voices, shrill voices, snarls that made her bones ache.
"What happened?"
"Draco! Draco, where are you? Are you safe?"
"Lumos! Lumos, I said! What the devil is wrong?"
"Where is the girl? Where's that mudblood?"
She felt herself shake as she heard the last voice, a piercing, shrill voice. Her head spun. Something dark... heavy eyelids... a sword... all these came to mind with the voice, but everything was so fuzzy, so very out of focus. Her mind went into hysterics every time she mentally prodded any of these images too deeply.
She shuttered, and focused on the person holding her, instead. He (she assumed he was male,) was moving quickly, but taking small, unsteady steps. The steps of a blind man. The world was as dark to him as it was to her. He began descending a flight of stairs. She could hear him breathing in quick rasps, sucking the air desperately.
He was afraid.
Was he scared of that voice, that shrill screech? She was. Maybe he was, too... maybe he even knew why he was scared of it, unlike her – but she couldn't let herself think about the voice anymore. It made her head throb too painfully.
Her captor stopped suddenly, and she could hear him running his hand over a wooden surface. With a click, a door opened, and he slipped inside, closing the door behind him. Then the darkness was gone, replaced with blurs of color that she couldn't focus on. Her eyes refused to work, but she heard voices again, voices she knew, voices she loved.
"Hermione!" gasped Harry, before Ron bellowed,
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER, YOU LOUSY-"
"Quiet! Please!" She heard another familiar voice, the voice of her captor, plead to no avail. Their yells only grew. She felt him shift beneath her, before he incanted, softy, "Silencio!" Harry and Ron became deathly silent. She felt herself lowered to the ground.
"She's fine, I think, just unconscious."
No I'm awake... she thought, weakly. Shaking slightly, she raised herself into a sitting position. She gazed toward the voices, squinting, as her eyes began to clear a little. She saw a tall blond wizard nervously edging as far away as possible from her two friends. Of course, she already knew who he was. Draco Malfoy.
Ron, after considering Malfoy for a moment, (determining how much of a threat he was,) ran up to Hermione, crouching down beside her and giving her a quick hug. He said nothing, though, unable to talk.
Harry jumped at Malfoy, and tried to wrench the wand from his hand. Malfoy steped back and flicked his wand, paralysing him. Seeing this, Ron rose in protest, face turning red with contained yells. "You're untied," Malfoy stated nervously rubbing his hands together before turning to untie the other prisoners. "How?"
"They can't talk." Hermione whispered.
"Do you promise be quiet?" Malfoy whispered, glancing over his shoulder, biting his lip. Then he shook his head. "It'll have to wait. We have to go, now. I don't have time to answer questions or listen to explanations..." He looked up at Harry and Ron. Sighing, he flicked his wand at them, loosing their tongues and releasing Harry from his paralysis.
"Hermione!" Ron cried, squeezing her arm. She saw, her eyes almost clear now, that his face was red and streaked with tears.
"Are you alright?" Harry demanded, giving Malfoy a suspicious glare.
"Shh!" Malfoy hissed, staring at the door apprehensively. The threesome lowered their voices without question.
"Yes..." She began weakly, legs wobbling beneath her. She looked at the two boys beside her and wanted to cry; she loved them so much. "Yes, I'm fine, now."
"Enough with the sappy reunion." Malfoy snapped. "We've got to go. They'll be checking on you any minute, now." He reached for the door, when a loud crack sounded through the room. Everyone jumped, especially Malfoy, who had seemed high-strung before. Now he looked ready for a heart attack.
"Dobby!" Harry called.
"Harry Potter, Dobby has come to rescue you!" Dobby was shaking fiercely, back in the home of his old masters. His eyes widened at the sight of Malfoy and he stepped back, emitting a small squeak. Malfoy stared at him blankly; if he recognized the elf, he didn't show it.
"Dobby, can you disapparate out of this cellar?"
Dobby nodded, still gazing at Malfoy in fear.
"And you can take people with you?" The elf nodded again, and shuffled toward Harry, who waved him away, toward Luna, Dean, Olivander, and Griphook. "Take them first, then come back for us. Take them to – take them to –"
"To Bill and Fleur's!" Ron interrupted. "Shell Cottage, on the outskirts of Tinworth!" Dobby nodded again, shuffling toward the other four prisoners.
Then footsteps drifted in from the stairway... Thud! Thud! Thump-thump-thump-thump...
"Someone's coming!" Ron muttered needlessly. All looked at each other.
"Dobby! Go with those four, and don't come back!" Harry ordered. Looking at the weak and barely conscious goblin he added, "Be very careful with Griphook."
Dobby looked up at him, large eyes even wider than normal. "But Harry Potter!"
Dean and Luna both stood up. "We want to help you!" Luna whispered.
Dean nodded in agreement, adding, "We can't leave you here!"
"Go, all of you! Now!"
"I'll get them out." Malfoy said, looking at the floor stiffly. Dobby trembled in fear at his voice, however, seeing that Harry didn't argue, nodded.
The footsteps stopped, and the doorknob rattled. "Go! We'll meet up at Bill and Fleur's, I promise!" Harry spoke quickly. With a sad glance and loud crack, Dobby, Luna, Dean, Olivander, and Griphook were gone.
Malfoy, still gripping his wand, stood in front of the door as it opened. "Stupify!" He hissed, watching as Wormtail stumbled into the room, falling to the floor, unconscious. He was trying to look calm, but Hermione could hear his shallow breathing. Without a word, he reached back and grabbed Hermione's arm, and whispered to the three of them, "Follow my lead... link arms or something, it should still be dark out there."
"Why should we trust you?" Ron asked accusingly.
"We have no other choice." Harry snapped. Hesitantly, Ron grabbed Hermione's other hand and caught Harry's arm. After Malfoy saw that they were all linked, he led them out of the dungeon into the black hall.
"What is this?" Harry whispered.
"Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, now shut up, or we'll be heard!"
Malfoy guided them through the blackness – except it wasn't so black anymore. More dark grey, with outlines of solid objects visible. Hermione could hear voices all around them, none close, but all hostile. She could feel Malfoy's shaking hand through the thick fabric of her robes.
He stopped in several places, (doorways, Hermione imagined,) listening to the voices, trying to find a safe way out. With every stop, with every blocked exit, his breathing grew more rapid, his moves more jerky, his steps more rushed. Finally he stopped completely. The recognizable voice of Lucius Malfoy, his father, could be heard nearby, getting closer. The younger Malfoy took a few hesitant steps, before breaking into a run, dragging Harry, Ron, and Hermione behind him.
Hermione almost tripped as he began climbing a flight of stairs.
Up they went, leaving the darkness below them. Higher and higher. Hermione, later, wouldn't be able to remember the first thing about that stairway, whether it was made of marble, of wood, if it was carpeted... She only remembered climbing it, desperately, pulled by an even more desperate Malfoy.
"Where are we going?" Ron hissed, after climbing perhaps four stories. "We can't get out from up here!"
"Shh! They had the all the exits down there blocked... and I know a way out from up here." Malfoy's voice was very dry, and trembled slightly.
"How do we know it isn't a trap?" Ron shot. He got no answer. Instead, Malfoy pulled them down a dark hallway, ran to the end, and turned onto a very narrow, unfurnished stairwell. They all flew up it.
At the top of the stairs they found themselves in an attic filled with boxes. Light entered the room from a large, dusty window. Malfoy released Hermione's arm, stumbled to a box, opened it, and grabbed an armful of broomsticks.
"Old models..." He explained absently, handing brooms to the three of them.
"Hermione doesn't like flying, she'll go with me." Ron said, handing a broom back. Malfoy nodded, then stuffed the extra broom back into the box.
Harry fingered his broom, looking worried. Suddenly his head shot up, and he cried, "We forgot the Gryffindor's sword! They still have it!"
"That was the real sword?" Malfoy looked up disbelievingly, eyes widening as Harry nodded. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, sighing. "There's nothing that I can do." So saying, he broke the window with his broom handle, clearing a large enough hole to fly out of. He winced heavily as the great, terrible crash echoed through the mansion.
Faraway, thuds could be heard... someone climbing the stairs.
Harry took off first, shooting out of the window and hovering nearby. Ron followed, Hermione seated behind him, arms tight around his middle. They waited for Malfoy.
He didn't come.
"Oi, Malfoy, we have to go!" Ron shouted.
The footsteps were closer.
They all looked at the blond boy, standing before the broken window, face paler than normal and hands trembling. He glanced over his shoulder at the door, biting his lip, and pulled the broom under him. He narrowed his eyes determinately, and – froze. Then slumped.
"Malfoy?" Hermione called, hesitantly.
"Come on!" Harry yelled, slapping his broom handle for emphasis.
"I-" his voice broke, "I can't..." he muttered weakly. "I should stay..."
"You can't! You helped us... they'll kill you!" Hermione shouted, terror filling her. She remembered what had happened to her, minutes before... They had no mercy. She had just been a muggle-born to them, who might possibly know something about Gryffindor's sword. What would they do to a traitor?
"No... I'll say I was under a curse, – t-the Imperious Curse – and they'll believe me and I'll be fine and my father wouldn't let me die and..." He babbled, eyes wide from fear, staring out the window into the unknown world, the weight of his betrayal just begining to register.
The footsteps had stopped, but, faintly, the floor below, a voice could be heard, saying in a sickening sing-song voice, "Where are you? I know I heard-" Bellatrix. Unmistakably. Hermione shuttered against Ron.
"You have to come!" Harry shouted.
"No, I... n-no." He lowered the broom, tossing it aside. He was shaking all over, now, and his narrow chest's rapid rising and falling testified of his panicked, shallow breathing.
"Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, pleaded. Harry edged his broom toward the window. Malfoy took a few steps back, turned, and ran. His footsteps staggered down the stairway.
"We have to go, Harry," Ron called, "with or without Malfoy."
They took off, trying not to look back. "Aunt Bella, I... Hey, wait–!" could be faintly heard as they flew off, before the whistling wind overpowered the voices.
Hermione leaned into Ron, sobbing, whispering, "The git, the coward, oh that stupid, idiotic coward..." over and over, like a chant, an incantation... like a spell.
