a.n. This chapter is relatively short, but as I'm posting the next one immediately after, I'm not too worried about it. And without further ado, here is Chapter 4, followed closely by Chapter 5.
The walk was slow and long, but twenty minutes later he was walking Granger through an open doorway into what he knew was the drawing room. A fire was roaring cozily in the fireplace against the opposite wall, but he immediately noticed that it was the only thing cozy about this room at this point. Bellatrix was standing by it, waiting expectantly, her arms crossed. With her were only a couple of others, undoubtedly whoever else had happened to be in the Manor at this time. Blaise stood to one side with Dolohov, a mad smile causing the older man's lips to curl back, revealing his yellowed teeth. Narcissa was next to Bellatrix, her arms also crossed, but her lips were tight, obviously disapproving of the torture at this time, but wanting to watch all the same.
Bellatrix seemed to light up at the sight of them. Draco released Granger's elbow and evaluated her out of the corner of his eye. Her chin was still high. Her shoulders were back and her spine straight, and her eyes were shining with something. Tears? No, there was not a trace of fear on her face. Her eyes were shining with anger and determination. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Bloody Gryffindors.
To the surprise of the room, once Draco had released Granger's elbow, she continued to limp forward, meeting Bellatrix in the middle of the room, looking her right in the eyes the entire time. "Look at the ickle Mudblood!" Bellatrix smiled, her words dripping with mirth.
What happened next, no one there could have predicted, though Draco suspected that anyone who had spent time with the Mudblood could have told them exactly what would happen. Granger spit directly into Bellatrix's face.
"How dare you!" she screeched, reacting immediately, and she drew her wand. Draco's heart skipped a beat. It had begun.
It had been three hours. Draco's stomach had been churning for the better part of that, and he knew that if he were to check, his hands would be shaking. Across the room, Blaise was frowning slightly, his lips pursed, a deep crease across his brow. Narcissa had left the room an hour ago, muttering something unintelligible under her breath. Draco guessed she went to lay down, her state being as fragile as it was.
Granger was laying flat on her back, blood running from a deep cut on her forehead, forming a neat pool on the wooden floor. She was panting heavily in short little gasps, her lips parted and chapped, her skin dangerously pale, various cuts and bruises covering her body. Her face was swollen from the constant beatings. She was almost unrecognizable. Bellatrix had laughed ruthlessly, maniacally throughout the entire process, though Draco thought it was safe to say that her favorite part was when she drew up Granger's sleeve to find the word "mudblood" still scarred into her forearm. She had positively shouted with glee upon that discovery.
But Bellatrix was getting tired of this game. They could all tell. Granger hadn't said a single word the entire time. She had screamed plenty, but not a single word had passed through her lips. Her resolve was remarkable. It was obvious that Bellatrix was getting frustrated.
"Just tell us, girl!" she screeched at the body on the floor. "Give us names and places, or admit that you were lying!"
Granger said nothing.
"Crucio!"
And so it went, anger seeping deeper into Bellatrix, Draco unable to take his eyes off of his bleeding and dying classmate, remembering her asking only days earlier how her could stand to watch this.
He hadn't told her how much he hated it. Or how sick it made him feel. Now, watching it happen to someone who had correctly assumed most of his feelings surrounding the life he lived, who had been voicing things that he had been thinking for years, the sick feeling was infinitely worse. It was all he could do to keep the contents of his stomach in place.
As Bellatrix ended the curse, Granger slowly turned her head to the side, so that her eyes rolled for a second before they focused with immense effort on Draco, though still she did not say anything. In a flash, Draco remembered those eyes focusing so hard in the classroom, shining with the eagerness to learn. Now they were dull and drained of energy. Nausea played harder at his stomach, but still he did not move.
"You're lying! Your lack of information proves it! You're lying!"
Granger moved her head again, slowly, breathing shallow, until she was looking up at the enraged woman standing over her, her wand pointed at her heart.
"I wasn't lying," she finally said in a whisper. Her final answer after such a long period of silence shocked the room. Draco's sharp intake of breath wasn't the only one that echoed throughout the room. As if that wasn't enough, she continued, her voice suddenly strong, with conviction, as if she hadn't been being tortured within inches of her life for the past three hours. "I wasn't lying. We are still fighting, and we will win."
Bellatrix stared at her wide-eyed for a second, obviously caught off guard, before "Crucio!"
As Granger stopped screaming, she started to laugh hoarsely, in a truly insane way that reflected Bellatrix's own hysteria. Draco was chilled to the core. He had never seen anything like this. He had never felt so disturbed. She had resisted torture with some difficulty last time until she finally gave in, or so he thought. But this… this was something else. This was madness coming to manifest in Granger.
"What," Granger managed to say, though her voice was straining now. "Voldemort didn't tell you? He must not trust you as much as you think he does. It doesn't matter. You will all be brought to justice soon anyway. Do your worst." Though her voice cracked with pain at the end,
"You dare speak his name?" Bellatrix continued furiously, spit flying from her mouth, her eyes wide and filled with hatred, and she raised her wand again, and Draco suddenly knew that his aunt was going to deliver the final blow, so he quickly stepped forward.
"Bella!" he said sharply, and she immediately turned her crazed eyes on him. "Aunt Bella, we need her to be alive. That's enough for tonight."
She looked for a minute as though she might curse Draco instead, but instead she stared at him for a full thirty seconds, her mind apparently working very fast behind her wide, terrifying eyes, before she lowered her wand. "Of course you're right," she admitted, her voice suddenly soft and calm. "The Dark Lord wants her for himself."
And without another word, she left the room. For a moment, it was silent except for Granger's heavy breathing before Dolohov let out a short laugh. "My, that was entertaining, wasn't it?" He rubbed his dirty hands together. "It should be an even better show when the Dark Lord returns," and he too left, leaving Draco and Blaise staring at the body on the floor as blood continued to pool around her head. Red… like his own blood. It looked as though she had finally lost consciousness.
Draco was light-headed. The coppery-scent was strong and flooded his nostrils, causing his nausea to come in huge waves. His vision seemed to swim in and out of focus, and he found himself hoping to Merlin that he didn't pass out. "Blaise," he said quietly, his voice only slightly strained. He hoped his friend didn't notice. "Will you help me get her back downstairs?" Blaise only nodded, as if he too thought he might have trouble speaking.
Neither Draco nor Blaise said another word until they had deposited Granger's limp body back onto her bed-prison. Immediately Draco called for Howwy, who appeared with a crack, various potions already held in his arms, having been alerted earlier what was going to happen. "Tend to her," Draco said simply as he conjured a chair and sat by the door.
Blaise watched for a minute then turned to leave. "I'll see you later, mate," he said lowly. Draco didn't answer.
Draco sat there for a long time, wordlessly watching Howwy tend to wounds and occasionally tilt a potion down Granger's throat. It was his job to tend to the Mudblood, and he was thankful that the others knew this and did not come looking for him, for he was sure that he looked like a mess, having ran his fingers through his hair far too many times as Howwy mopped blood from her pale skin.
Far from convincing him that Granger had been lying, Draco was now only convinced that she had been telling him the truth the entire time. The Resistance was still alive and strong.
Now Draco sat with his head in his hands, going over the most sickening torture session he had ever seen in his life in his head. For the first time, he felt as though he had really noticed blood. It was a beautiful color of red, the essence of life. He thought about how often he had not only facilitated situations like the one he had just watched, but how often he had actually taken part in such violence himself. He thought about how it felt to be the inflictor of the pain, showing power over the person, and he thought about how it felt to watch Bellatrix do her own thing.
Something clicked in Draco's head, and suddenly the roles in a torture situation reversed, though he felt as though things had only been made clearer to him. Having just watched Bellatrix desperately trying to get answers from Granger and failing again and again, Draco felt as though he had reached an epiphany. It wasn't the inflictor that had the power. No, the person being tortured was the one in control of the situation. It was the Torturer who was so desperate for answers. It was the Torturer who was not in control of the situation.
Draco sat like that all night as Howwy bobbed around the still body of Granger. Every now and then he would focus his attention on the various healing the elf was doing, wrinkling his brow, worried that Bellatrix had gone too far and killed the girl, but the elf seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
Just as he felt as though the sun had surely risen by this point, Howwy turned to face him and bowed until his long nose almost brushed the dirty stone floor. "Howwy had done all he can at this time, sir," he said in his squeaky voice. "Howwy will fetch food and water for when she wakes up." And with a crack, the elf disappeared only to reappear seconds later with a tray that was bigger than him. He struggled to set it on the nightstand before bowing again and disappearing, presumably for the kitchens to prepare breakfast.
Still Draco sat. Granger's swelling had gone down and many of her major cuts and bruises had been healed as much as the dark magic would allow. Splints kept each of her wrists straight. Draco assumed they had both been broken when Bellatrix had raised her high into the air with her wand only to slam her back down hard on the wooden floor. Granger had put her arms out to break her fall. They had all heard the sickening cracks, though it could have realistically been any part of her body that broke.
He felt sick again, thinking of the night before, and he felt a slight hysteria begin to bubble in his throat. I never want to take part in something like that again… he thought, shocking himself. He remembered the pleasure that Bellatrix and Dolohov had both visibly received. Draco had felt none of that. He put his face in his hands once more, choking back a sob, feeling like a helpless little boy for the first time in a long time.
What had he gotten himself into?
The next couple days, Granger grew stronger once again. Draco never managed to be there while she was awake, but her food kept disappearing, so he knew that she had to be awake at some points. He wasn't sure he wanted to come across her awake anyway. He didn't want to hear her accusations. He didn't want the face the possibility that she might not talk to him anymore. He didn't want to see the angry expression on her face. Now he lay in his bed, remembering the blank stare she had focused on him while laying on the floor, blood dripping from a gaping wound on her head, and he shuddered.
He knew now that he never wanted to witness something like that again. But what could he do? Brutality was part of his nature. It was his job to inflict such pain, and he didn't think he could do it anymore. He had grown up preparing for the life he was living, and suddenly he was realizing that it wasn't the life he wanted for himself.
Gradually, Draco woke himself up more fully, and decided to walk to the kitchens for a late breakfast, hoping that he wouldn't see anyone he had been successfully avoiding the past few days; namely, his aunt. He knew from past experience that she would still have a crazy glint in her eyes, lingering still even after days have passed from the last time she inflicted pain so extreme.
But luck was not on his side. Draco kept his face impassive as he entered the kitchens to find his mother and aunt sitting at the table once again, though his heart leapt in… in what? Fear? His palms were sweating. Yes, he was scared of his own aunt. They both greeted him as he entered and plucked his standard green apple from the bowl of fruit on the table between them. Before he could retreat though, Bellatrix's fingers curled around his upper arm, her nails pressing a little too hard into his skin through his robes.
"How is our Mudblood faring after her little excursion?" Bellatrix asked sweetly, causing Draco's blood to run cold.
"She would be better if you had kept better control of yourself," Draco surprised himself with his own insolence, and was not shocked in the least when his aunt slapped him hard across his face in answer, knocking him off balance and nearly sending him to the ground.
"Bella!" his mother yelled at her, but the dark witch said nothing in response. She just watched with glittering eyes as Draco straightened his robes and left with his apple, as if this sort of thing happened every day. For Bella, he supposed those sorts of things did happen every day.
Now his feet took him straight to the old servant's quarter, and his heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest. He knew this was it. He couldn't take it anymore. His aunt had just erased any doubt that he might have been harboring. He needed to leave this life. He wanted to live without the constant fear that he would be hit or tortured or killed at any moment for the slightest slip-up.
He knew now that he was the prisoner here. He was not as free to do what he wanted. He was more of a prisoner in his own house than Granger was, and she was confined to a bed.
He burst through Granger's door with much more energy than he had intended, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed that she was awake, though very tired-looking. Her eyelids dropped slightly, though she watched him interestedly as he entered. He took a deep breath. One more time. He had to ask, just so he knew for sure…
"You're lying," he said, but his voice sounded weak even to him, as if he was pleading with her to tell him that she had made it all up.
Once again, Granger shook her head, slowly and sadly, her tangled mess of brown hair moving with her. "I'm not," she said quietly. "It would be stupid and wrong to lie to you." His breath hitched in his throat. He still felt like a vulnerable little boy in front of her, and he hated it. "It would be stupid because I am weak. You could easily overpower me. I hold nothing over you except a vague promise of freedom. It would be wrong because I would never be able to lead anyone astray like that. Not even you. You would have nowhere safe to go. You would be hated by both Voldemort and the Resistance. I would be sentencing you to death. I can't do that."
He didn't answer at first. They both stared at each other while these words sunk in, and he considered everything he had seen and heard the past few days. This was it.
"I want out," he finally said, focusing hard on not letting his voice crack. "I want out now. I want this life I'm living to end, and I need your help."
Granger smiled, and though the action was slight, it caused a warm feeling of hope to spread to the tips of Draco's fingers. It was a genuine smile. He felt the relief wash over him, and he knew even before she began to speak that she would agree to help him.
a.n. Huuuge turning point! This is one of my favorite chapters. I can just picture Draco realizing that he is more of a prisoner than his actual prisoner. I hope I did a good enough job explaining the thoughts he was having. It was a challenge for sure.
