Chapter 3

This Means War

Walk the razor's edge, cut into the madness. Question all you trust, buy into the fear. I see the man ripping at my soul now. I, I know the man, I know him all too well

-Avenged Sevenfold – This Means War

September 30, 1995

"Lucius Malfoy," she said, her sad eyes flicking up and meeting his for a fleeting moment.

Draco stared at her for a full 30 seconds, not understanding how she'd managed to confuse his father for someone else. He had no love for the man but he also knew that his father wasn't depraved enough to rape a young girl of sixteen.

He could hear Dumbledore speaking to Hermione, his deep voice rumbling in the background of Draco's thoughts but he ignored it and stood from the bed quickly, dropping Hermione's hand in the process.

He felt detached from reality and faintly heard her name fall from her lips as his feet led him away from her hospital bed, automatically it seemed. He heard her apologize, but he kept going. There was a strange buzzing in his ears and his blood was pounding through his veins loudly, his carotid artery thumping hard as it forced the blood toward his heart.

She was lying, obviously, or just completely confused. There was no way that his father had been the one in Hogsmeade that day, it just didn't make sense. He would have known that he was planning on visiting, maybe would have sent Draco a letter and asked him to meet him somewhere.

Draco snorted aloud at the thought. His father had never kept him informed of anything he was doing and it would be a cold day in hell before he decided to invite Draco for a day of shopping or to share lunch. Draco didn't see him unless he was home from school during holidays and that was really fine, but for a girl to accuse his father of rape? That was a whole different story and Draco would deny it vehemently until the day he died.

He stomped through the halls and back through the entrance hall he'd carried the broken girl through only an hour before, his hands shaking and his breathing rough. Draco heard his name but continued on as though he'd heard nothing, slamming through the doors and entering the blessedly cold air before continuing on toward the lake. There were benches scattered around it and he needed to sit down. Needed to think.

He couldn't help but recall the look on Granger's face when she'd realized it was Draco who had found her. Fear.

She'd been moving toward him, someone who would be able to help her, but when he'd turned and she recognized who it was in front of her she had attempted to scramble away from him. He could recall her face, contorted in fear, her eyes alight with panic.

Why would she have acted in such a way if it wasn't because it was his own father who had attacked her?

Draco didn't have to reach far for an answer to that question. Because she hated him, of course. She wouldn't have wanted anyone to see her in such a state and the fact that a boy she'd hated since she was 12 years old had found her wouldn't have sat well.

But that didn't seem right, either. Sure, she didn't like him, but that didn't explain the horror on her face or the anxiety in her eyes – the utter terror at who had stumbled across her.

Maybe the rapist was Polyjuiced to look like his father. Plenty of people hated the Malfoys, and it would be a sure way to disgrace the family name. On the other hand, how would the culprit have been able to acquire Lucius Malfoy's hair for the potion? Draco knew exactly how meticulous his father was with such things, paranoid of just such an occurrence.

Draco dropped his head into his hands a took a few steadying breaths, unsure what to believe. He didn't want to face the possibility that he had a rapist for a father, a rapist's blood running through his veins. Then he realized he had been around the girl for ten months of his life a year for the last 4 years, and he knew for a fact that she wasn't a liar. She was too damn good to be a liar.

He took a breath, disgusted with his life and the implications about what it was going to become if Granger was indeed telling the truth. Dumbledore knew about it, so it was a safe assumption that he would be taking the necessary precautions to throw his old man in jail. Not that he would deserve any less if he was actually the person who had raped her.

Draco remembered suddenly something that Pansy had said to him over the summer holidays. They were sitting in the garden enjoying tea with his mother and when she'd left to check on the state of their lunch Pansy had leaned in toward him, her voice low and her eyes fleeting, almost like she didn't want to look at him.

"Don't repeat this, Draco, you hear me? I think you should know though, because it was… wrong."

"What is it?" Draco had asked, surprised to hear the quiver in Pansy's voice. He'd known her since he was a toddler and they were close friends, and supposedly about to be betrothed to be married – not that either of them really wanted that to happen. They weren't meant for each other and they both knew it. Pansy tried to keep the farce up that they were together, especially at school, but Draco himself knew that she had her own little boyfriend from a different school house. She wouldn't tell him who, but he knew there was someone who had caught her fancy. He just prayed it wasn't Harry Potter.

"I was in the hallway earlier talking to your grandfather Abraxas' portrait. He was telling me some dreadful story about his Dragon Pox, like I care, but I heard footsteps behind me and I knew it was your father almost immediately because of that damn cane he carries."

Pansy stopped and swallowed hard, her eyes skipping away from his again. Draco didn't say a word, just waited for her to continue with her story. She seemed to be questioning herself over whether she should say anything at all, but she swallowed again and dived into it.

"I turned around and he was just standing there a few feet from me, watching me. Watching me closely, Draco. I said goodbye to your grandfather and went to make my leave, but I heard him whisper something to himself, almost as though he wanted me to hear it too, though. He said, "so delectable," and when I turned around he was staring hard at my arse, Draco. Then his eyes skipped up to my breasts and I just…"

Pansy stopped talking and turned her body away from his for a moment, almost as though she was embarrassed and ashamed, which was a ridiculous thought.

"I thought you should know," she added as an afterthought, and Draco was surprised to hear her voice break.

"Did he do anything else?" Draco asked despite himself, because he couldn't believe that Pansy was about to cry in front of him. She was the strongest person their age Draco knew and she'd never cried in front of him, not once.

"No," she answered, and she sounded truly miserable. "But I felt threatened, Draco. I felt… dirty from the way he was staring at me."

Draco watched in shock as a tear slipped from Pansy's eye.

His mother joined them at the table then, noticing Pansy's tearful gaze. She immediately began asking the girl what was wrong, but Pansy made her excuses and fled the table.

Draco hadn't seen her for two weeks after that incident.

He took a deep breath again upon remembering that. He was surprised by it but thought that even though Pansy would never lie to him, had never done it before, she had misunderstood something in the situation. Narcissa had commented about how the girl was 'growing into herself' as she walked away, her skirt swinging around her thin, shapely legs, and Draco couldn't help to agree.

Apparently his father had noticed as well.

So Lucius Malfoy had made Pansy feel uncomfortable enough to cry and not come back to his home once during the previous summer vacation, and now Hermione Granger had been raped and beaten to a pulp and was placing the blame on him as well.

Could it be?

Draco was frustrated, he didn't want to believe but he also could see the possibility.

"What's happened?" a voice asked from his left, causing him to jump violently and whip out his wand.

Pansy held her hands up in a supplicating gesture and Draco dropped his wand with a sigh.

"Draco," she said sharply, her eyes wide. "Why do you have so much blood on your robes?! Are you hurt?"

Draco shook his head no but offered no explanation. Pansy raised an eyebrow and flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder before taking a seat beside him on the bench and folding her hands into her lap. They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Did my father touch you this summer?" Draco asked suddenly, causing Pansy to turn to him in bewilderment.

"What?" she asked calmly, but Draco could see the truth flash behind her eyes.

"He did, didn't he?"

"Draco, I told you what happened already."

"Don't lie to me, Pansy; you never have before and I really don't appreciate it," Draco snapped. He was tired and angry and just wanted to know the damn truth. "Did my father touch you?"

Pansy looked like a trapped animal for a moment before she puffed out a breath.

"It wasn't anything major," she said, looking ashamed again. "He touched my breast for a moment before I turned away and ran."

It looked like admitting the truth had taken a lot out of her and Draco felt his world spinning around him dangerously, the world tipping out of focus.

He wanted to cry but would never actually allow himself to do it. It seemed to him that maybe Hermione Granger had been telling the truth, and Draco didn't want to believe it so easily – it was his father, for Merlin sake – but at the same time it just rang true.

"What's happened?" Pansy asked again, her voice low.

So Draco explained everything, how he had been thinking for a long time about his role in life, about how he wasn't sure he'd be able to follow in his fathers' footsteps and was adamant about the fact that he didn't even want to. He told her about what had happened in Hogsmeade that day, and Pansy seemed suspiciously concerned about Granger's well-being for a moment, but Draco pushed it aside before he told her about how Granger had pointed the finger at his father.

"Is it true, Pansy?" Draco asked, his voice sounding almost desperate.

Pansy took a deep breath in through her nose and turned away for a moment, weighing her words. She couldn't lie to him, she wouldn't.

"I think it probably is, Draco. I know that's hard for you to hear since you've always wanted to please the man, but what he's done is… it's awful, no matter who it happened to. What could Hermione Granger possibly have done to deserve such a thing? Befriend Harry Potter? Big deal. Be born into a family that she literally had no control over? Who cares."

"Pansy… are you saying you don't believe in the Dark Lord's reign, either?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she answered stiffly. "I swear to Merlin if this conversation gets to anyone other than the two of us I'll never speak to you again."

Draco barked out a small, mirthless laugh. "Are you joking? If anyone heard any of the things I've said over the last hour I'd be strung up by my balls in the common room. This is still a game that we have to play properly, Pansy, regardless of what we feel."

She sighed. "I know."

"I don't know what to do," Draco admitted after a few quiet minutes, he was exhausted but also felt like he should at least check in on Hermione. She was probably hurt that he'd left the way he had.

"Go check on her quick, I'll make your excuses," Pansy told him, her eyes twinkling strangely at him as the moon reflected back at her.

They separated ways in the main entrance, Pansy descending the stairs that led to the dungeons as Draco skirted through the corridors that would take him to the hospital wing, his hood pulled up over his hair. He opened the door slowly to see that the room was empty but for Hermione's bed at the end where he'd placed her.

He approached slowly and entered the curtains silently, not wanting to wake her up.

He was surprised to find himself at the end of a wand as the curtain fluttered shut behind him. Hermione's eyes were wild and frightened, her hair in more disarray than he had ever seen before, and she had a hospital gown wrapped about her body tightly.

Draco ripped back his hood quickly before she had a chance to hex him.

"It's just me," he whispered, watching her eyes calm slightly as she avoided looking at his hair and focused on his face instead. Everyone always said that Draco was a spitting image of Lucius, but he himself disagreed. He looked a lot more like his mother – the only thing he really had in common with his father was his hair colour and his height. His mother's was blonde as well but not as platinum, it had more honey colour running through it in streaks, but other than that he had his mother's gray eyes – his fathers were blue – and her sharp features.

"Draco," she whispered, the tears welling up in her eyes again. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop," he said softly, holding his hand up so she'd halt her words. "Don't apologize to me. I should be telling you how sorry I am, so sorry that my father could do something like that to someone."

Hermione was silent and settled back in her bed slowly. She looked exhausted and Draco had to wonder why the healer hadn't given her a sleeping potion.

"I refused it," she answered upon his asking. "She left it with me to take if I felt the need."

"Why would you refuse it?" he asked, confused. He'd take it no question if someone had given him one. He'd had a long day. An awful day.

"I don't want to be sleeping too deeply," she answered quietly, and Draco realized she was scared of her attacker – his father – coming back.

"You're safe here," he answered, looking at her closely.

"I don't want it," she snarled, pushing it further away across her nightstand. "I won't allow myself to be vulnerable."

Draco had a million questions to ask her, how she'd managed to get into the forest and why she was there alone? Who were the other men with his father? He swallowed them and watched her fight off the sleep that was trying to take her. He'd wait until another time to ask, if he ever had the chance.

"I have to go," he said quietly after a few minutes. "Everyone will be wondering where I am and where the hell I've been all day. I just want you to know that if you need to talk to me about anything, Granger, I'll be around. Don't make it obvious, of course, but…" he paused for so long she thought he'd finished speaking, then murmured, "I'm really sorry."

Hermione sniffled into her pillow, tears falling thick from her long, dark lashes. Draco had the sudden urge to touch her, but resisted. He didn't think she'd appreciate it, especially given how torn she was probably feeling about his involvement.

"I'll tell you how I feel about my father one day," he said quietly before turning away from her. He muttered another apology before slipping through the curtain and walking away quietly, sneaking back down to the dungeons.

November 30, 2004

"My parents?" Hermione asked, her eyes dimming for a moment. "But they… they won't understand. I obliviated them! Years ago, Draco. What is he hoping to gain by taking them?"

"You," Draco answered simply, reaching out to touch her anywhere he possibly could.

Hermione had obliviated her parents 8 years previously and knew that there was no way to take it back, now. It had been far too long, they'd have an established life and she wouldn't feel right taking it back from them, if she even could without the risk of causing brain damage. An obliviation of up to a year could be lifted with intense spell work, but any added time after that made it less and less likely to be successful. She knew she would never try to return herself to their lives after two years had passed.

"How did he even find them?" she asked, leaning heavily on the table in front of her.

"He knows a lot more about you than you probably want to know, to tell you the truth, but none of it came from me, Hermione, I swear. Sometime we'll have to find out who informed him, but not anytime soon. We will have enough on our plates as it is."

Hermione took a deep breath, turning her gaze back to his. Draco reached out and cupped her cheek gently, rubbing his thumb along her jawline lovingly.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked suddenly.

"Join me at the Manor. He knows we're married now so there's no way I can go back there without you without paying the price. He will want you on his side, Hermione, he will want you to be a follower of his, regardless of your blood status because he sees you as a way to defeat Harry."

"You can't go there, Hermione," Ron snapped suddenly, slamming his fist on the table.

"I have to go," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I have to."

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, looking ashamed. It was his duty to protect her, to keep her safe and alive and happy – he had failed. "I never wanted this to happen."

"What are you going to tell him?" Harry asked, his hands clenched with worry on top of the table.

"I own a house of my own in northern Wales. It's more of a cottage really, but I have had the place for a while now and I sometimes go there to unwind. I thought we could play it off as though Hermione has been living there."

"Why?" Hermione asked, wondering why she'd need to pretend such a thing. Surely Voldemort would have to know that she was living at the Order headquarters.

"No one has seen you in a long time, Hermione. It wouldn't be too far-fetched for them to assume that you have fled and don't have much to do with the whole situation."

"People think that?" she asked, aghast.

"Some do," he said with a shrug. "I might have helped the rumour along a little bit."

"So what," Ginny asked, trying to catch up with everyone else. "She's going to go to Voldemort and pretend that she hasn't had anything to do with the Order, with us, for the last few years and then join his ranks?"

"Pretty much," Draco said, meeting Hermione's eyes. She thought it was rather smart, especially if some people were already assuming she'd fled years ago. It would help keep her safer, as well.

"I don't like it," Ron said, his eyes flashing.

"It's a game that we're going to have to play," Hermione said after a moment, turning away from Draco and giving Ron a hard look. "That's all this is, it's a game."

"Everything with Voldemort is a game, at this point," Draco said seriously. "He thinks he's won this war, thinks he won it years ago, really. Everyone in his ranks has everything to do with a power play – his followers are constantly trying to one-up each other and climb the twisted ladder he's built."

"Is that what this is about?" Ron asked, eyeing Draco knowingly. "Are you trying to climb the ladder by bringing him Hermione? Is he going to finish her off the second she gets there so he can wound Harry?"

Draco's jaw tightened for a moment, his eyes hardening as he stared at Ron. He had thought they'd built a tentative friendship so he was unsure where the accusations were coming from all of a sudden.

"Stop it, Ron," Hermione snapped. "It isn't like that and we all know it, so stop trying to provoke him into a ridiculous argument. I'm going, and that's the end of this discussion. I'll play the game to the best of my ability and hope that both Draco and I are alive at the end of it all."

Hermione turned away, flipping her hair over her shoulder to prove that she was done with the conversation. She met Draco's eyes and he was glad to see she looked calm and collected.

"You have to keep in contact with us, Hermione, come back to this house every single time Draco does. I need to know that you're okay."

"I will," she said quietly, turning to Harry but still managing to keep her back to Ron. Harry was such an amazing person and seemed to know her better than she knew herself sometimes. He was truly the brother she never had.

"You can't be serious," Ron spluttered. "You can't actually be allowing her to go there with him."

"Allowing me to go there with him?" Hermione asked, her tone icy as she turned back around and gave Ron a hard look. "Harry doesn't have to allow me to go anywhere, thank you very much. Draco is my husband. I will be going with him in order to make sure we stay alive, and I will do so willingly."

"I'm sorry," Ron sighed, rubbing a hand warily across his eyes. "I'm just concerned."

"We're all concerned, Ron, but there's no other way," Harry said as Draco fidgeted, waiting to leave. He'd been gone a lot longer than Voldemort had anticipated, he was sure.

"He has my parents," Hermione stressed, her eyes worried.

"We'll figure it out Hermione. Maybe he'll let them go once you've shown up."

"Maybe," she echoed, but she didn't sound like she believed him for a second. "I guess I'll go pack."

"I'll help you," Ginny offered, following Hermione from the room.

"I hope she hurries," Draco muttered. "I've been gone a lot longer than I should have."

"It's Hermione," Harry offered. "She'll probably be back down here in two minutes."

It actually took her seven, her trunk shrunken and stuffed into her pocket.

"Ready?" she asked, standing tall.

"Don't write," Harry said, smiling cheekily.

"I'm not an idiot," Hermione answered blandly, before smiling widely at him as tears sparkled in her eyes.

"Be safe. Take care of her Draco," he said, giving Hermione a quick one-armed hug before shaking Draco's hand.

"Always," Draco answered quietly, shaking Ron's hand as well before the lanky man scooped Hermione up for a hug.

"I'll see you soon," Hermione told her three friends, turning to her husband and holding out a hand for him to take.

Draco gave a nod before Apparating out of the kitchen, pulling Hermione along in his wake to his 'master'.

They landed softly in the entrance hall of Draco's family home. Voldemort had taken it over years ago and now that Draco was the only remaining Malfoy of his line left Voldemort paraded around like he owned the place. Well, he could have it, for all Draco cared. He'd never live there, anyway, when everything was said and done. If he lived long enough to worry about such things. His home had been tainted by dark magic long before he could remember and he truly had very few good memories about the place.

"I have to take you directly to him, love. Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Hermione answered defiantly, her chin in the air and her posture ramrod straight.

"I think he wants to confirm our marriage and probably question you about a few things – be as honest as you can, for Merlin's sake. We're already on extremely thin ice for keeping him in the dark for so many years. My place in his ranks is hanging by a bloody thread. Be submissive to him, Hermione, I can't stress that enough. It'll be hard, but you have to do it. Remember, love, this is a game and you just became a player."

Hermione nodded tightly and leaned in for a quick kiss, gripping Draco's hand tightly in her own, allowing him to lead her down the corridors and to a large open room where Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange were waiting for him. The woman was sitting near Voldemort's feet, her long hair fanned out across his lap where his bony hand was running through the wild curls.

"Oh look, the Malfoys have finally decided to join us," he said in a whispery, cold voice that had Hermione's arm hair standing on end.

"So sorry, my Lord," Draco said, dropping to a knee. Hermione followed suit but she wasn't too keen on exposing the back of her neck to the man the way her husband was.

"The youngest Mrs. Malfoy. Look at you," Voldemort said in a quiet voice, approaching the couple slowly. Hermione had to suppress a shudder when she saw his bare feet, the toenails yellow and cracked, his feet caked with dirt and what looked suspiciously like blood. "No wonder Draco has kept you secret for so long."

Draco's hand tightened around hers for a moment, completely understanding what Voldemort was hinting at.

"Rise."

Draco got to his feet immediately and lifted his head. His aunt had straightened her posture but was still sitting on the floor, a gleeful look in her eyes.

"Bella," Voldemort said, causing the wild haired witch to jump to her feet, her eyes shining mysteriously. "It seems that young Draco's wife took the initiative to heal his injuries. That just will not do," he said, his voice cold and hard. Draco's arm tensed beside Hermione for a moment, but he dropped her hand quickly and stepped away from her before she could react, making sure he was out of her reach. She turned to him in confusion, trying to meet his eyes.

"Crucio!" Bella's voice rang through the room, making Hermione jump at the anger behind the word.