Draco leaned one hand on the cool black table, bracing himself after landing in the Rally Room. The dimly lit sconces surrounding the perimeter of the silent room and stark cleanliness of the tables and chairs were a sharp contrast to where he'd just been in the park, deafened and blinded by the roar of fire and screams.

After leaving Granger, he'd found Theo a few blocks over, skipping up and down the street as he set house after house alight, his only excuses being that he'd wanted a chance to test out Fiendfyre and that the quickest way to find Thomas was by forcing the neighborhood's inhabitants out onto the streets. The dark-skinned former Gryffindor had finally made an appearance, running out of the third house on the right, panting and covered in sweat as he'd tried to drag an older woman with him.

Draco had tried to look busy, shooting mild hexes at the other prisoners who'd ran out into the street, to avoid Theo calling attention to him as he'd started hexing and cursing Thomas, not even asking yet for the whereabouts of Longbottom. Apparently it hadn't been enough, though. The tension in Draco's shoulders had only increased when Theo had clapped him on the back and held out his hand as if he were offering Thomas up as a gift. He'd tried to look convincing, casting a weakCrucio that barely had the man twitching. But after the meaningless life he'd seen Granger in, he couldn't stomach the thought of adding to their pain.

Theo had pushed him aside, making excuses about how the blond had been locked away in his office for too long and needed to see how it should be done. A few precise Diffindos later and he'd felt the splatters of blood across his pale face, grimacing as he'd turned away whereas Theo had relished in the feel of control.

It wasn't until he'd heard the yells of the older woman Thomas had been carrying out of the house, begging for them to not hurt her son, that he was her only child and to please take her instead, that Draco had finally lost it. Her cries had reminded him of the night he'd returned to Malfoy Manor after the confrontation at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Even though Dumbledore was dead, the Dark Lord had been disgusted with Draco's lack of effectiveness and decided he'd needed to be punished for his disobedience. He'd managed to block out most of the pain of the Crucios, putting up his mental shields to protect him in that moment. But the sounds of his mother crying, Bellatrix chastising her, and Lucius having to hold her back lest the Dark Lord turn on her next were things he'd been unable to block out.

Draco turned to rest both of his hands on the table he was leaning against, squeezing his eyes shut to block out Theo's incessant chatting yet again, still shaking from when he'd let go of the apathy and ignorance he'd been living in for two years. The houses that had been burning had started to collapse, the total count at eight then, four on each side of the street. He'd released his anger and disgust of the place, casting Bombarda and Deprimo on the houses on the left, each one crumbling in succession to piles of ash and debris.

He'd built those houses. All the exact same two-stories with three bedrooms; at least one bedroom had to be on the ground floor so that some of the prisoners were easy bait for the guests and that they didn't all attack at once. The red door against the plain beige of the siding had reminded him of the blood soaking through Finch-Fletchley's simple robes.

Years had passed of him sitting on the sidelines while he'd let this world exist, let people be dragged in here. He may not have been one of the Death Eaters who enjoyed taunting and torturing these prisoners, but he'd built their cages, trapped them in their loops never to escape.

He'd let off Confringo and Reducto to the houses on the right that had blasted splinters of the wood paneling in all directions. He'd soaked in the warmth radiating off of the still burning houses, feeling powerful in the destruction of what he himself had created. And that's when he'd realized he'd fallen into the trap, the primary gift this park offered to its guests: the freedom to control.

In the background, he'd heard Theo questioning Thomas, finally asking about Longbottom and where to find him.

And there it was. The truth of this world: it was all just a game. His destruction of the houses didn't matter. Property Maintenance would apply a few reversal spells, and the rubble and flames and sobbing prisoners around him would go right back to where they'd started a few hours ago, living in peace and contentment, completely unaware that they were nothing but pieces on a board to be used and played with.

But then Theo had let out a growl and stopped his torturing, clutching his forearm as his Master summoned him away from his supposed freedom. They couldn't Apparate within the park nor onto or off of Somerset, so they'd run to the nearest rally point that would transport them to the Rally Room just offset of the visitor's entrance to the Manor.

Theo's shouting of his name brought him back to the present, and he opened his eyes to see yellow-tinged teeth grinning at him. "Give it a few days," he said. "You'll start to realize how boring it is being stuck on the outside and be dying to go back. I'll let you know next time I'm planning to head in, and we can finish what we started." His robes whirled around as he stalked toward the exit, but he paused at the threshold. Glancing over his shoulder with a smirk and a glint in his eye, he added, "I do so hope you enjoyed the experience." And then he left.

The faint light from the sconces cast shadows across Draco's face, not dark enough to mask his bewilderment as he recalled their first night in the pub, Theo's comments about 'enjoying the perks of his position' ringing in his ears. The thought of having to revisit the park made his stomach churn. He longed to rewind the past few days and go back to his isolation of work and ignorance and apathy. But it was too late for that now, he could never go back, never be able to forget the reality of what he'd seen.

Reality, how bitterly ironic it all was, really. Those trapped inside Somerset couldn't recognize or remember their reality whereas Draco on the outside fully understood his own reality and wanted nothing more than to forget it. In the end, they were all prisoners in this world.

Collecting himself, he flicked his wand to remove the blood that had started to dry onto his pale skin, eager to return to his quarters and drown himself in firewhiskey and Dreamless Sleep. A faint tapping noise out in the hallway that grew steadily louder made him freeze his movements. A high-toned clacking against the stone floor used to signal his mother coming toward him, the pace of her heels a hint of what her mood might be. But he knew he would never hear that sound again.

No, this tapping was blunt, slow, methodical, as if the person making it did so purposefully yet gracefully, without any indication of what their temperament could be. Draco loathed the person it belonged to; he'd done everything he could the past four years to avoid them, but living and working in the same dreary building made 'chance' encounters unavoidable. His skin crawled as the man spoke.

"Ah, Draco, I see you have returned," Lucius Malfoy's slow drawl echoed around the room as he entered, his finger caressing the snake's head on his cane as he took in his son's defensive stance and expression.

"Yes, and I'm quite ready to return to my quarters and start on the work I've missed, so if you'll excuse me, Father," he bit out, unsuccessfully hiding his sneer, pounding out his frustration through his steps as he pushed past Lucius to leave.

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Draco halted. The light swish of Lucius unsheathing his wand from his cane broke the silence in the room, followed by the grinding of stone as he sealed the door to the hallway shut. The younger man spun on his heels to face his father, his chest heaving as he breathed deeply to control the rage coursing through him.

Once upon a time, Draco had adored his father, wanting nothing more than to please him and follow in his footsteps, promoting the Malfoy name and relishing in the power it carried. Even in this dark world, Lucius' proud expression never faltered as he adapted, the Malfoy name still commanding admiration and influence. But now Draco was disillusioned by what they had had to do survive; he'd been questioning for far too long if it was all worth it.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Draco demanded.

Lucius turned to face him, his expression betraying nothing but a calm demeanor beneath his icy exterior. "'Tis a simple question, really. Did you enjoy the park and everything it had to offer?" He slowly stepped forward, Draco steadfast in his stance to not show any weakness. "I'm curious, considering it's been what, two years since you've visited? Even before that you've never shown an interest in it, not really." His expression darkened, his deep voice almost growling as he added, "You would do well to rectify that."

Draco's left foot stayed perfectly in place, but his right had other ideas as it stepped back to add distance between father and son. A surprised scoff escaped him. "Did you ask Theo to take me in there?"

Lucius responded with a barely-noticeable shrug of his shoulders. "That sense of entitlement of your generation makes it so easy. A simple suggestion laced with a potential promise of promotion to both Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini and they did exactly what I needed them to, none the wiser."

Draco clenched his jaw, attempting to bite back his retort but failing. "You see this, this right here is why I avoid you at all costs. The manipulation, the control, has anything I've done in my life ever really been my decision? Or were you playing me, pushing me around like a pawn on a chessboard." He huffed, a mirthless laugh escaping his lips. "I'm no better than your prisoners in the park."

The Malfoy patriarch dropped his charade, snarling as he pushed Draco against the stone wall, the dark grey of his eyes flashing with rage. "Every action, every maneuver I have ever done has been not to you, but for you. I built Somerset for you, for our family, for our legacy. The Malfoy name has been a respected symbol of purity and wealth for a thousand years and I will not see it disappear into the dust because you are too narrow-minded to see beyond the current world order."

He minutely relaxed his hand where it gripped Draco's shoulder as he continued, "If you want to keep your place in this world and survive, you need to blend in more effectively, act like the rest of the employees in this Manor and learn their strengths and weaknesses. You're never going to accomplish anything you want if you don't understand neither your enemies nor your allies."

Releasing him, Lucius stepped back, adjusting his robes to hide any trace of his outburst. His hands came together to rest on the cane in front of him, restoring his cold mask of indifference. "There is...talk, rumors. I believe there are spies here in the Manor."

"Spies?" Draco scoffed. "From the Resistance?"

The elder man's lip curled as he suppressed his irritation. "No, you foolish boy, news of the Resistance is barely above a whisper anymore." His head tilted to the side as he watched Draco start pacing around the room. "I'm not sure who is behind it or what exactly they want, but it seems someone is dissatisfied with the way I'm running things and has been expressing their concerns to the Dark Lord. He's been summoning me every few weeks over the past several months, asking what more I'm planning and if I'm still capable of managing things and making sure our prisoners don't get too comfortable in their cages."

Draco suppressed his sneer, stopping his steps on the far side of the room opposite the door and leaning against the wall there. As much as he hated it, he knew that if his father lost his position and influence then he himself wouldn't be far behind. Living and working in the Manor was significantly better than being assigned duties for patrolling or, Salazar forbid, Ministry work dealing with the public. "And what do you want from me?"

The edges of Lucius' lips slightly twitched, apparently pleased with his son's response. "Do what you are supposed to do, no more hiding in your office or quarters or avoiding others when you are summoned to revels. You are the sole heir to a powerful, pureblood family with a respected name. Now that Mudbloods and blood traitors are in their proper places, we only have to concern ourselves with others who wish to be in our position. Watch what people say and do and what they don't, and trust no one. Except Severus."

The younger man scoffed. "Snape?"

"Your godfather will always protect you; I trust him. He helped build this place and understands the operations and politics just as much as I do. If I fall, so will you, and so will he."

"Mutually assured destruction. Brilliant," Draco said bitterly. Soft grey eyes locked with the dark pewter of the older Malfoy's, and Draco nodded. He accepted what his father asked of him, recognizing the possible threat, but remembered that he'd said to trust no one except Snape. Even Lucius knew that asking his own son to trust him was futile; after the fiascos of his sixth and seventh year, Draco had lost all respect he had for the man and could never trust him again.

Lucius nodded back and flicked his wand, the stone door sliding open as he turned around to leave, but he stopped at the threshold. "There are eyes and ears everywhere, Draco. I may not have a direct hand in the day-to-day activities, but I know every little thing that happens in this Manor and in the park, as does Severus. You would be wise to remember that."

Draco's heart stopped beating in his chest. Did he know about Granger? Impossible. Their encounter had happened barely an hour ago. And there was no way he could have known about their interactions at Hogwarts; he'd never told another soul and he doubted she had either.

Anger surged through him. Of course Lucius would ensure his requests were attended to by finishing them off with a hint of a threat. Draco pushed off the wall, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wasn't holding his tongue anymore. "Tell me, Father. In all your musings on everything you've done for the sake of the family, what would Mother say if she saw your creation?"

From his position, Draco could see the tensing of Lucius' shoulders, a smirk crossing his face as he delighted in being able to catch the elder Malfoy off-guard. What Draco couldn't see, though, was the twitching of Lucius' right eye, a glimpse of sorrow crossing his face as he tried to swallow down the bitterness of irony at the mention of his wife.

"Your mother is gone, Draco. All she ever wanted was for you to be safe. You do her an injustice by not even trying to protect yourself."

On that final note, Lucius departed the room and strode off down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps not nearly as noticeable as the lack of the slow, controlled tapping of his cane.

Draco stood in front of his bathroom sink the following evening, shirtless and clad in only clean black trousers. The only piece of his reflection visible was his face, the rest of the mirror fogged up with steam from the shower he'd just finished.

He'd tossed and turned all last night and hadn't gotten a single bit of work done all day. His thoughts had been trapped in the neverending circle of needing to make a decision he didn't think he was ready to close the book on.

The towel squeaked against the mirror as he rubbed more of the condensation away, revealing his platinum blond hair and the Dark Mark inked into the pale skin of his forearm in his reflection. This is who he was. Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, Head of Infrastructure at Somerset Park. As much as he didn't want to admit it, his father was right; he needed to start playing his part in this world ruled by the Dark Lord.

He'd been running on autopilot for at least two years now, and last night in the park, as horrific as he'd found it to be, it was the first time he'd felt something besides apathy. Something needed to change for him. At this point, what did he really have left besides his father and fellow Slytherins? His mother was gone, and Granger...

Sure, he thought he'd cared for her once. They'd had one tryst three years ago; it's not like that meant he was in love with her. And whatever it was she'd once felt for him was long gone now.

He kept replaying last night in his head, barely able to keep the decrepit tunnel door from breaking into pieces.

The fire in her eyes. The gasp of shock and relief.

Just for now.

He closed his eyes, trying to force away the memory.

It just didn't make sense. Hell, was it even possible?

It was one thing to be under the Imperius, doing as someone else commanded while buried deep down the person had an inkling something might be off. TheObliviate was an entirely different type of hell, more of a torture on the people around the victim than the victim themselves. Combining the two, though, what exactly was left in a person's mind when they had no true memories and no control over their own lives?

Perhaps he had imagined the whole encounter.

His knuckles whitened as he clenched his hands around the edge of the marble basin.

If he had any hope of not just surviving, but living, he needed to embrace his role, this life he'd been given. He needed to be able to stomach it, possibly find a way to enjoy what he could out of it, to just feel something. Even relishing in the minute sense of power he could hold over his fellow employees could give him a reason to get up in the morning.

And as much as he despised his father, he was right, the Malfoy name meant something and would still command respect in the years to come. He needed to make a change, to find a reason to live, to know he wasn't stuck in his own loop.

But then his thoughts went back to Granger. The light at the end of that tunnel had flared a fierce orange before fading to grey last night. Even now it was still glowing, thick beams shining through the holes in the tattered door.

He had to know, had to be sure. Is she really gone?

Donning his traditional black robes, he strode out of his quarters and down the long, narrow hallway that led away from the employee housing and toward the main area of the Manor where the departments and offices were. The corridor was empty at the moment; the majority of employees had already started their evening shifts or were out patrolling the park.

His feet continued to carry him forward, past the turning points for the Storyline and Employee Management departments. The dark green lettering and arrow indicating the direction toward the Infrastructure offices flew past as he hurried along, not wanting to acknowledge the Spare Property storage area where prisoners such as Horace Slughorn and Xenophilius Lovegood stood, pale and Petrified, waiting for someone to find a place for them in the park.

He finally reached the double doors at the end of the hall and pushed them open, hurrying through to prevent his cloak from catching as they closed behind him. Pale hands wrapped around the cold railing of the balcony he was standing on as he looked down on the Dome of Property Maintenance, a large circular room divided into eight smaller areas by clear glass windows. Each area housed an elongated silver table and a small stool on which sat employees dressed in plain black robes, some sitting very still, others fidgeting with their wands. They were waiting for the next round of prisoners to arrive to be healed and reset before being sent up to Control Verification.

Several loud cracks echoed below, and a body appeared on each table lying unmoving, eyes wide open. Draco's eyes drifted around the rooms, passing over Jimmy Peakes and freezing when they found who he was looking for. Hermione.

Turning to the left, he cautiously walked down the spiral stairs and through the narrow hallway between Peakes and Granger, stopping at the entrance to the room she was in. Apparently, Theo was right.

Gregory Goyle looked up from the parchment he was reading from with a confused frown on his fat face. "What are you doing down here?"

Draco started to speak but paused. Maybe he hadn't entirely thought this through.

He was saved the trouble of having to find an answer when he felt a presence behind him, and Greg's expression became serious as he stood up straighter.

"Out. Now," Severus Snape growled from behind him.

The blond's shoulders tensed, and he was mildly surprised when Greg nodded and immediately obeyed. He didn't have a moment more to ponder that thought though as he was roughly pushed into the room, stumbling over the small wooden stool. Snape followed him in, shutting the door and casting Muffliato and Obscuro across the windows and ceiling to block out onlookers.

Steadying himself with his hands on the edge of the table, Draco tried to maintain a mask of indifference in front of Snape. He trusted his former Potions professor, but that didn't mean he wanted him to know everything about him or his past with Granger, whatever it was that they had had.

His emotions betrayed him as he looked down at her, brown eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. He just needed to wake her, to talk to her, to know that this thing in front of him was not the Hermione he used to know. Snape's presence complicated this.

Why was Snape here anyway?

Turning around to watch Snape as he moved forward to stand on the other side of the table, Draco asked, "What are you doing here?"

A cold smirk spread across his thin lips. "If you ask Mr. Goyle, he'll say it's because I have frequent visits with Miss Granger." His voice still carried that tone he used when he would teach, trying to get foolish students to learn something that he believed they could never possibly understand. "Visits that require that well-known-yet-never-discussed level of discretion that many employees request with their favorite prisoners."

Draco frowned in disgust, tearing his gaze away from Hermione as Snape emitted a soft hum. "No blood on her this time," he said.

This was worse than he'd thought. Snape was supposed to be the reasonable one between him and Draco's father. And yet here he was, indulging in toying with prisoners. Draco started to step back to leave the room, intent on escaping and forgetting he'd ever wanted to do this.

Black eyes locked on him, and he froze. "Leaving so soon?"

"Clearly you get priority, Sir," he replied, thinking that him wanting privacy with Granger was a reasonable excuse to use.

"Come now, Draco. Neither of us is here for that particular type of visit." He stepped around the room to stand beside Draco, intentionally not blocking the blond's view of the table. "Don't you want to know if she still remembers?"

Grey eyes widened in surprise. With the way Snape lifted a dark brow, studying him, Draco knew he was talking about more than just remembering last night.

How was it possible that Snape knew about how he felt toward her? He'd made sure throughout sixth year that no one knew he'd been meeting her, nor had he told anyone about their last encounter after the war.

And then his father's voice resounded in his head. I know every little thing that happens in this Manor and in the park, as does Severus.

Somehow, Snape knew what had happened last night, had seen the way Draco desperately held onto her as she'd started to remember him and how he'd reacted when she'd reverted to her loop.

"I am well aware of your little secret. Just as I am aware of many other secrets. "

Jaw clenching, Draco thought more about what his father had said last night. "You know secrets. Good for you. But it doesn't matter anymore. Whatever you think I used to feel toward her is gone. I've accepted my place in this world and am here to make sure that where my loyalties lie is clear."

"And is that with the Dark Lord or against him?"

He glanced away for a brief second, his grey eyes narrowing as he realized Snape appeared pleased at his hesitation, but then the older man's expression softened.

"You are not the only one who once cared for a Mudblood."

Draco scoffed in shock, about to ask what in Merlin's name he was talking about, but Snape held up his hand, his expression hardening back into that frowning sneer he always carried.

"Everything your father said was true, but Lucius and I have different motives."

Draco spoke up, fear evident in his tone. "Does he-"

"No," Snape quickly answered before continuing. "The only reason your father remotely cares for these prisoners more than he would a house elf is because they earn him galleons and influence." He turned his head to look at Hermione where she lay on the table.

"This place, this park, the guests see it as nothing more than a game to play and win by killing. To the resistance, it is a prison where their loved ones are trapped, using it as their reason to keep fighting. To the Death Eaters, it is a delightful threat they can use against their enemies. Same with the Dark Lord, albeit he is starting to see it as something with a darker potential than just these little adventures Storyline comes up with." He turned back around to lock eyes with Draco. "But to us...to us it is so much more."

"We can help them, but we have to work together. I have a plan, and it will take time. It has taken years for the Dark Lord to build this world the way he sees fit. It will take many more to bring it down." His tone hardened. "Swear to me your loyalty. Loyalty not for our Master or for ourselves, but for them." Snape pointed his hand at Hermione. "For her."

Draco looked down at where she lay, curls spread out, expression vacant. He thought of the promises he'd made and failed to uphold. He'd sworn he would prove he wasn't the coward everyone thought he was. He'd tried to contact her after their last meeting in the Shrieking Shack, but she'd refused to see him. Thinking she'd given up on him, he gave up on her, and thus himself.

But even after all these years of him trying to block her out, to keep the door sealed, the tunnel had never collapsed and the room at the end had never completely disappeared. He'd never really given up on her.

All the times in the past, all the decisions he'd made throughout sixth and seventh year and even after, she'd continued to believe in him, believe him to be more than a sheep who followed. Part of him still resented her, blamed her for where he'd ended up because he thought she'd forsaken him. But this was war, it was bigger than just the two of them.

And really, that's what it came down to. This was about more than just two people on different sides of a war. It was about the sin and darkness and injustice this world had become, the families torn apart, lives ruined, all because too many people believed someone was a threat simply because of who they were born to. And the ones who didn't believe that particular dogma were too afraid to stand up for what they thought wasn't right.

Hermione hadn't been afraid. True to herself, she'd fought. Who was he to prevent her from having the chance to keep fighting? To keep her from being herself? To keep any of them from having the freedom to live?

The fierceness and determination that she once carried surged through him. She may not remember him, but he remembered her. Even if Hermione herself wasn't waiting for him in that room at the end of the tunnel, her warmth and light and unfounded optimism were still there, her belief that there was more to live for in this world than following those he thought held power just so he could survive was at the center of it.

With the conviction of his decision etched into his face, he turned and met Snape's penetrating black eyes with his own storming grey.

"I promise."

Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!

This is the first multi-chapter fic I've written, so please let me know what you think!

And yes, I have a sequel planned and outlined. It will be significantly longer and spread across multiple characters both inside and outside of the park, but will mainly focus on the prisoners.

Until next time! :)

-tectonictigress