Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners (JK Rowling). The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
It all happened so fast. It was all a blur. And he could literally do nothing, wand-less and shaken. Weasley was wrestling with someone, screaming bloody murder to try and reach an unconscious Granger and the swelling upon Potter's face was beginning to fade, his scar showing almost as clear as day. Spells were being cast left and right; a sea of red and green sparks flying through the air. Granger lay a few feet from him, a small pool of blood underneath where she landed, her sweater ripped to shreds. He reached for her slowly unsure what he would do when he had gotten ahold of her but someone came running past, breaking the progress he had made.
"Nooo! Call him, call him!" he heard his aunt bellow as a loud cracking sound echoed through the large foyer, signaling the disappearance of both Potter and Weasley with the snap of what appeared to be his old House Elf's finger. Weasley's voice echoed throughout the now silent room, calling one last time for Hermione, even sending a shiver up his spine. But it was too late. Voldemort was already on his way and Potter had just slipped between their fingers. The silence was deafening as everyone tried to process what had just happened.
Bellatrix stalked through the hall, hair a mess and wand still at the ready as the familiar whooshing sound signaled the dreaded arrival of their Dark Lord. Draco's breath quickened as he stood up, preparing for the worst as half of his attention was full of impending doom as Voldemort approrached, the other half painfully aware of Granger's painful breaths piercing the silence.
"Well?" Voldemort asked, despite already sensing the issue. "Where is he?!" he bellowed, the glass windows shaking from the volume and the fear rippling throughout.
"We had him, my lord. We had him," Bellatrix squeaked, looking like a forlorn puppy dog awaiting a beating hand as she cautiously approached her master. "He was here but..a a house elf, their house elf set him free!" she bellowed, pointing a finger at the Malfoy's, all standing together with wide eyes at the correct albeit surprising accusation. He merely raised a white hand to silence his most devoted follower, approaching the Malfoy's, Draco in front, slowly as if already knowing the entire story.
"Draco, Draco, Draco," he said, eerily calm as he approached. "Is that true? Was he here? And your family," he said, looking from one to the other, his parents attempting to standing up straight and stand their ground. "Your families house elf… set him free. Is that right?"
Draco felt as if he couldn't speak if he tried, his throat dry and his nerves at an all time high. He simply nodded. Before he knew it, he was being grabbed by the scruff of the neck and thrown halfway across the room, an audible gasp heard form his mother as she pleaded with the Dark Lord to spare her son. He skidded across the marble floor, his body plastering itself right into the rousing Gryffindor who awoke at the sudden impact of his body.
"Ahh, what do we have here?" asked the Dark Lord, tone changing completely as he gazed over at the pile of limbs, distinguishing who the other pair belonged to quickly. "How seldom do things come… full circle," he said, raising his wand, a product once own by his father, and pointing it at the whimpering Gryffindor who had managed to let one word escape from her bloody lip as he lifted her body into the air.
"Draco…" she pleaded before she was lifted, head bobbing lazily, not having the strength to hold her own head up. He was frozen to the ground. What was Voldemort going to do? What should he do? What could he do? He looked past them both and into his mothers pleading eyes. He pushed himself up into a standing position, limping slightly from his collision.
"What should we do with you?" he asked, twirling her slowly in the air as if admiring his kill tauntingly. "What do you suggest Draco? This was your task, after all.." continued to taunt the Dark Lord.
Think, Draco. Think. He stammered for a moment, wishing he had his wand on him. Not like he was exactly a match for Voldemort or that he would necessarily use it but he was definitely missing it's comfort. Apparently he was taking too long to rack his brain for ideas that didn't end up with Granger, him or his family getting hurt.
"Nothing? Tsk, tsk. How disappointing, my dear boy… Avada-!"
"Wait!" he bellowed. He wasn't even sure where his words would take him until an idea popped into his head at the very last moment.
"What if we used her as bait?" blurted out Draco. Fortunately for him but possibly unfortunately for Granger, that seemed to have piqued his interest. He looked down at Draco with his dark eyes, lips twisting into a sinister smile. He let Granger fall to the ground with a thud and the unmistaken sound of bone breaking, causing more than one stomach in the room to churn, his mother even more pale than she normally was.
"What a brilliant idea. I presume you'll have no problem looking after the prisoner?" he asked but didn't wait for an answer. He threw a glare at his father and Bellatrix before disappearing into the night. He just stared down at the broken Gryffindor, mouth somewhat agape at the new task dangled in front of him but was thankful that he and his family remain unscathed. At least, for now.
An uneasy sound escaped from his mother's pursed lips, her hand resting on her heaving breast as the events of what had just happened came crashing down. His father, however, couldn't contain his emotions quite as well as his mother. The gangly man stalked towards Draco and hissed right at him.
"Do as he says. You can- NOT fail again," he said with a note of finality, looking down at his son in disgust. He would have never directly disobeyed the Dark Lord but he sure had done a good job evading his reach during his "remission". His father was a coward and had unfortunately, passed on to Draco who had to actively attempt to not run with his tail between his legs like his father. He watched as he turned and stopped, looking back at Draco, eyes full of misplaced rage as he raised his hand, swinging it back hard against Draco's pale cheek, scratching him with his plethora of rings that clung to his long fingers. He winced and frowned as he father headed out of the room still bubbling with rage as his son's mishap. He looked down at his task and rolled his eyes, dabbing at his cheek with the back of his sleeve.
He wanted her to live but not live with him. He sighed and raised her up in the air, similarly to how Voldemort had done previously and floated her moaning body up to his room. He watched the scarlet drops of blood drip from her body and stain their Mahogany floors. He was hoping it was something relatively simple that he could fix and wouldn't require any outside help. He kicked open the door to his bedroom with his foot and looking around as he entered. What was he supposed to do with her? He groaned as the inevitable, at least for the time being, reeled in and he let her land softly atop his exceptionally inviting bed. It had been a day so far, to say the least and the only thing he wanted to do was crawl inside those satin sheets and sleep for the next day or two.
He stared down at the limp Gryffindor, eyes fluttering open lazily but shutting right away. She was fighting to stay awake and not succumb to the unconscious state luring her in but she was failing. Her sweater was ripped to shreds revealing her porcelain skin littered with cuts and scraps, a stark contrast against her light skin. He gathered the necessary supplies, throwing off his robes and rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, dabbing once again at the most annoying cut near his eyebrow before heading back over to his bed to find a terrified and very much so awake Hermione. She stared at him frightened and wide eyed, staring around frantically as she tried to push herself up into a sitting position, the shoulder of her sweater revealing much more than the remnants of Bellatrix's rogue spell. He caught his dark eyes landing on the obvious, her exposed breast clad in a respectable black bra.
"Wh-what do you want?" she asked, voice cracking slightly and his sight was brought up to her face, locking onto her emerald eyes. He watched her gaze look up to the spot his father had whacked him and he cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly before remembering her question.
He held the bandages he clung in his hands in the air, gesturing to the obvious as he approached her, watching her fail at merely sitting up. What was she, all brain and no strength? He knew the thought was unfair but he couldn't help how she annoyed him so easily.
"Sit still. Who knows how deep those cuts go," he said and with one fell swoop of his wand, he sliced the raggedy sweater right down the front, exposing her entire abdomen, a crimson blush creeping across her cheeks, her arm having slung over her chest in response to her sweater being slashed and he couldn't contain his eye roll.
"Calm down, Granger. It's nothing I haven't seen before," he said as he sat down delicately on the bed next to her to get to work attending to her wounds. She couldn't die on his watch.
