Disclaimer: All things belonging to the fabulous JK Rowling belong to her. Forever grateful for the existence of the enterprise. Songs of inspiration are Walking Far From Home, by Iron and Wine, and Curbstomp, by Meg Myers.

Chapter 1

The interrogation room was nothing more than a grey, barren room. The sparse furnishings consisted of one wooden table and two metal chairs, one on each side of the table. There were no barred windows to light the place, and the only way out was a heavy metal door on the far wall from where the prisoner sat.

He supposed that he could escape though, if he wanted to. But he knew there were heavy wards; he could feel them all around him. They were so heavy, it was difficult for the prisoner to stand, let alone walk. He supposed that if they hadn't taken his wand and had given him a couple of days, he could break out. But Draco Malfoy found that this time, luck was not on his side. He stared at the dark slab of metal across from him, waiting for it to part and reveal a glimpse of the outside world. He was so bored of waiting, and so desperate for the monotony to end, he willed the door to open, despite knowing that the result would not be in his favor. He lowered his head tiredly. It had been, if his approximations were correct, almost three days since he had been disarmed and captured.

There was a cacophony of explosions, and flashing spellwork colored the thick, grey fog permeating the Scottish moorland. Draco ran across the field, flinging deadly spells at the ragtag group of Phoenixes, distinguishing them only by the thick red sashes they wore around their robes. Fools, he thought. So easy to identify. He stepped on the purple heather, crushing the fragile beauties under his foot as he engaged himself in a duel with a hooded Phoenix. The Phoenix was very talented in her wandwork, and flung offensive spell after offensive spell, pausing only to dodge, duck, or fling up hasty, strong shields. Then, a spell he wasn't expecting.

He had been disarmed, but the spell had been nonverbal. Despite Expelliarmus being commonplace, it was difficult to cast nonverbally. Noting her expertise, Draco tried to summon his wand to him, but couldn't. He stared, shocked, as his wand latched itself to his opponent's wrist via a cord that hadn't been there before. Resorting to Muggle warfare, he whipped out a knife and got ready to throw it at his opponent before he was struck with a Stunner. He hadn't been quick enough. Agility in warfare was never his strong point.

When he woke up, he found himself in this grey room. And so it was, for three days.

Draco looked up, tired of going over the same scene over and over again. He looked towards the door, and surprisingly, it opened. In walked Hermione Granger.

And in her hand was his wand, bound to her wrist by a cord of dragon leather.

His eyes widened.

"Malfoy."

"Mudblood? You disarmed me?!" Draco made to rise before realizing that he couldn't. Those damned wards.

Granger stared at him impassively. She pulled the chair away from the table and sat down. Then, she peered at him, as if she was expecting something.

Hermione Granger stood in front of the door. She felt the wards pressing on her, before allowing her admittance. She stepped into the outer chamber and greeted Parvati Patil with a nod. Parvati recorded the time and date of Hermione's entrance, did a cursory check of Hermione's body for weapons other than her wands, and performed a quick Legilimens check to ensure that she had no plans of releasing the prisoner.

"Alright, Hermione, you're set," Parvati said tiredly. She had been working two days straight, taking Padma's shift because she had been injured in the last battle.

"Right, thanks, Parvati. Have a good one, yeah?"

Parvati nodded, then waved Hermione over to the metal door that led to the inner chamber. Hermione, who used to cringe whenever she had a confrontation with someone, opened the door decisively. The war had hardened her.

Immediately, she was met with the bewildered eyes of Draco Malfoy. His eyes wandered down her form, noticed that she had his wand, and finally, he realized that it was she who had disarmed him. As usual, his immediate reaction was childish and predictable, so she ignored him and sat down.

Hermione looked at Draco stonily. She allowed her eyes to search his features, still perfectly aristocratic, sharp, and clean even after the Order's intentional mistreatment of him. His appearance did not fool her, however. She detected in his eyes the tiniest hint of wariness. She inwardly smirked at that.

Hermione placed the thick file of papers she had carried in with her on the table, then opened it to the first page, where she briefly read a summation of his biographical details, as well as his health statistics. "Malfoy, nice to see that you're alive and well." Here, Hermione looked up at him. She looked back down at her file, then flipped through some of the pages they had collected on many, but not all, of his misdeeds. More than ten pages in total. She looked back up, letting her disgust creep into her face. He noticed, and leaned back in his chair, smirking. She pursed her lips, then set the file under her chair.

"I'm obviously here to interrogate you," Hermione said.

Draco snorted. "I'm not telling you anything."

"I'm prepared to torture you, and won't hesitate to do so," Hermione deadpanned.

At this, Draco laughed heartily. "Granger, you wouldn't hurt a fly. Fuck, you Stunned me when you could have used so many other spells."

"I needed you alive, Malfoy."

Malfoy responded by staring at her pointedly.

"Alright then," Hermione sighed, standing up and stretching her hands above her head. She turned to face the door, then quickly, with the agility of a ruthless fighter, she swung her wand arm around and pointed Draco's own wand at him. "Crucio!"

And suddenly, the still air was rent with Draco Malfoy's screams.