Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, J.Rowling does.
Rating: T, to be safe.
A/N: I got bored, and I wanted to write something. This is what my twisted imagination came up with. I don't have a clue where it came from, and it has no proper genre, but... Review, please. I haven't really posted anything in a while, so I need to know if I need more practice or am OK. This is mostly dialogue I'm afraid. If you read to the end, then thank you.
Voldemort turned his cardinal eyes towards his subordinate, staring intently at the cowering man before him. His hands itched towards his wand in anticipation, and what lips he had were drawn back in a cruel smile.
He was aware that every follower in the circle was shaking, that all of those surrounding him would like nothing better than to escape his menacing presence, yet that they dared not move an inch further away. They were there to watch the torture, and perhaps to become the victims of Voldemort's brutal acts of violence themselves.
But for now they were safe. Voldemort's anger was directed at someone else entirely; someone who had never exactly been welcomed into the Death Eater's ranks…
Draco Malfoy wasn't what you would call the typical Death Eater. He had been rather forced into his position in the Inner Circle by his father, peer pressure and threats. He was a survivor about to die.
Yet there was some attraction about the ways of Voldemort and his followers to Malfoy and his family in general: the Dark Arts were their speciality, and influence was often found in relation to them; they were Slytherins, craving the power they were so attracted to.
That was what had been keeping him alive thus far into his career, yet by New Year's Eve, the day which his death was to take place, this fatal attraction had faded; Malfoy had failed several missions that the Dark Lord had been merciful enough to grant him. Now he was to pay for his weaknesses in a final cataclysm.
"Crucio," Voldemort said coldly.
The torture lasted for several hours, until Malfoy's world diminished into black.
I'm dying, he mused. Shit, he thought after a moment's contemplation. I don't want to die!
He started to struggle wildly, but his limbs would not move; his left leg and three of his ribs seemed to be broken; the only sensation he could feel in those places was an excruciating pain.
But if I'm feeling pain, that means I'm not dead yet, doesn't it?
He thought about what that would mean. He thought about life in general and attempted to conjure up a happy memory. Nothing came to mind except a sharp stab of agony and the experience of feeling that his head was about to split in two.
Sensing that misery and a bout of self-pity was about to overcome him, Malfoy attempted to force his eyes open. It didn't work. He was still stuck in limbo. But he wasn't finding it such a bad place anymore; in fact, it seemed… comforting, somehow.
Maybe I shouldn't even bother anymore. I don't have anything waiting for me if I survive. They'll only kill me properly next time, and make it much more painful. Mother and Father will probably be charged with the task of destroying my spirit and body: the Dark Lord is far too sadistic to do anything else.
Thoughts of Voldemort made him shudder and, against his will, Malfoy's eyes opened blearily. To his relief, the Death Eaters had vanished.
"Welcome to the world," a voice above him said. For a moment, Malfoy could not place it, but he soon realised who exactly was by his side.
"Come to taunt me, Granger, did you?" he asked. He was too shocked to be confused.
"You really think I'm that sad?"
"No. I know you are. What I'm really wondering is why on earth, in my dying moments, am I hallucinating that you are here?"
"This isn't a hallucination. Trust me. You'd know if it was: I'd be trying to kill you. When I was three years old, I had a high fever and I saw giant ladybirds coming to attack me… I was so scared," Granger admitted.
Malfoy blinked in astonishment, and then laughed until he coughed up blood. "Gryffindor Granger, frightened of ladybirds? This is insane. Go away."
"Never."
"Why not? I want to die in peace. And, just out of interest," Malfoy said, lifting his head up slightly, "Why and how are you floating in mid-air?"
"All in good time, Malfoy, all in good time. However, you're not dying. Not yet, anyway."
"Is that so?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow, both at Granger's hallucination's strangeness, and at the fact that, against his own will, he was being drawn into the conversation.
"Mmm-hmm." She nodded in agreement.
"I'll tell you this one more time. Go away."
"Or what? What will you do to me?" she challenged sceptically.
Malfoy gave up. For whatever reason, he was seeing Hermione Granger floating above him. He didn't like it, but he concluded that it would be best to just ignore her and concentrate fully on dying. It seemed that was the only worthwhile thing to do in his current situation.
"Forget it Malfoy. It won't work."
He opened his eyes and glared at her. "I command you to go away. You're just a figment of my twisted imagination, so you can go to hell for all I care."
Instead of being intimidated by this comment, Granger started laughing. "I already am."
Malfoy frowned; a rare occurrence.
"We were on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix. It was only a small one, nothing dangerous… But when we got there, Death Eaters were lying in wait for us," Granger began her explanation quietly. "We were completely outnumbered; there was nothing we could do. Fortunately, most of us escaped with our lives. I wasn't so lucky…" She said the last part in a whisper, as if it was painful for her, and tears began to well up in her eyes. She forced them back fiercely, staring directly at Malfoy.
This isn't making any sense… Granger, dead? And if so, why is she here? No. I'm hallucinating. She's. Not. Real.
"Listen, Granger, I'd love to stay and chat about this tragedy, but you seem to have forgotten what is happening here. I'm dying, and I want to die, OK? Now I don't know why I'm seeing you in my delirium, but I honestly don't care."
"You're being very rude, you know. You haven't even asked me what the afterlife is like. You might as well know a bit about it before you say you want to go there," Granger sniffed angrily.
"So, Granger, how's the afterlife?" Malfoy said, deciding that he had nothing better to do than converse with his own annoying hallucinations.
"Boring," she replied, studying her nails nonchalantly. "You'd hate it."
"Want to bet?"
"Sure. Wizard currency is all the rage in Hell."
"I'm sure it is. You can buy so many things with just one galleon! There are plenty of special offers on fire-proof clothing especially," Malfoy said sarcastically.
"Hell isn't at all like that, idiot."
Malfoy scowled in irritation at being insulted by a dead person.
"What's it like, then?"
"It's this huge house with loads of empty rooms, surrounded by beautiful gardens filled with pretty flowers and trees, and streams and rivers!"
"Isn't Hell supposed to be a horrible place?"
"Of course it is! It's full of dead people! You could hardly call that nice… All they do is rant on about when they were alive, since nothing ever happens much there. The Dark Wizard Grindelwald's room is just down the corridor from mine. He and Dumbledore share a bunk. That Devil has a sick sense of humour, I can tell you. He puts enemies right next to each other. He and Voldemort (Malfoy winced at the name) would get along…" Granger continued to rant about the horrors of Hell, and, as the list grew longer, Malfoy felt rather faint. And I'd be there forever? He wondered fearfully.
"And, in the gardens, there are these damn birds that start to sing their annoying songs at one o'clock in the morning, and I can't sleep because it sets my teeth right on edge. Some day, I'm going to kill the buggers. All of them." Granger's eyes glinted maliciously.
Malfoy gulped.
"But you know what the worst part is? Everyone is friends with each other!" Granger exclaimed, her eyes darting about frenetically.
"Us? Friends?" Malfoy looked truly scared.
"Yes. For all eternity."
There was stunned silence for a few seconds.
"That's disgusting!" he said finally, wrinkling his nose in horror.
"That's why I'm not going to let you die, Malfoy. We have to prolong this terrible experience for as long as possible."
Malfoy let out a strangled noise of panic and tried to get up. His battered, broken body would not allow him to, however, and he merely managed to hurt himself more.
"Calm down, Malfoy. I know a way to stop this. If you just-"
"We're being civil to each other right now! How long has this been happening?" He looked utterly revolted. I've been speaking with a Mudblood. I've been speaking with a Mudblood. I've been speaking with a Mudblood… Oh, Merlin help me! This is sickening…
"Shut up, Malfoy! Merlin, you're so stupid! Do you have any idea how loud you are? The Death Eaters are still around, you know. If they find out you're still alive…" She let the sentence hang ominously.
"If I survive, how am I to escape them?" Malfoy sneered.
"That's what I was about to tell you. Take this piece of parchment and memorize the address. That place can hide you as long for as long as you want to stay there," she said firmly, ignoring his nauseated but doubtful expression.
Before he could reply, she let the slip of parchment flutter down from her hand and, to Malfoy's eyes, disappeared.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, the note read. He examined it critically, and lay there until he could move, ignoring the Muggles' fireworks and focusing on his private cogitations.
000
That was interesting, Hermione Granger reflected as she swung up onto her disguised broom and quickly disillusioned herself so that Malfoy would think she had disappeared entirely.
She sped off on her broom through the bitter winter weather, gradually losing sight of Malfoy, until she reached London. She dismounted hastily, shaking as vertigo overcame her and she almost fell to the ground.
Remind me to kill Harry later, she thought, then chuckled as she realised how ironic that was considering the conversation she had just had with her enemy. He knows I hate heights.
She almost ran to the door that was slowly appearing in front of her, eager to escape the cold and enter the warm interior of the Order headquarters. She knocked on the door and waited until Ron opened it for her. He looked excited.
"Did you do it? Did he fall for it?"
"Not now, Ron. When everyone's here. Now let me in," she hissed.
He allowed her to enter and they crept through to the kitchen, anxious not to disturb the sleeping portrait of Sirius' mother. Fortunately, they managed to make it successfully and, soon, Hermione found herself in the relieved embrace of Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh, Hermione, I swear, no matter how many times you say you're fine, they still shouldn't have let you go, especially not alone! Everyone was so worried. It was far too dangerous for you, anything could have happened… You should take your coat off: it's all wet from the rain. Come on, time for dinner, I've got some nice hot soup for you brewing right now…"
Hermione smiled gratefully at her, and turned towards the doorway as she heard a familiar yawn. Harry's sleeping patterns had become increasingly irregular as of late; he must have been taking a nap, she thought fondly.
"Back already?" Harry grinned at her.
"You needn't have been anxious on my part. It was easy. Malfoy's as stupid as ever."
"Do you think he'll buy it, though?" Ginny asked from her seat at the table. "He's not as stupid as he acts sometimes."
Fred and George mock-gasped at this revelation, but that was their only comment; they were engaged in a discussion with Mungdungus Fletcher, presumably about their joke shop business, and had only been half-listening to the conversation.
"I'm serious. He might even show that note to Voldemort," Ginny said.
Harry softened. "We've talked this through already; there are risks, but if he comes here alone…"
"It's OK, everyone." Hermione smiled confidently. "He'll come. He's scared out of his wits. I'm a much better actor than I used to be."
"Good." Harry smiled. "His information could be useful."
"It will be. Malfoy will tell us everything he knows about the Death Eaters in exchange for our protection," Hermione said.
There was a knock at the door. Ron went to get it.
"It's Malfoy," he called out to them.
Order of the Phoenix- 1. Voldemort- 0.