Disclaimer: Blaa-blaa-blaah... Harry Potter is not mine... Blaa-blaa-blaah.

Everything To Lose

Chapter 7: Seven Days of Torture
In which Pansy finally gets what she wants, Blaise surprises both girls, Hermione hears a couple of things about her situation, and the D-Trio meets an old friend.

One morning, Pansy didn't come. Hermione found that slightly disconcerting. Of course, as Pansy equaled torture, perhaps no Pansy would mean no torture. But those seven days of torture had felt like an eternity for her. Even one day was too long.

The first evening Blaise had brought her food, she had not been ready for it. She wanted to be bewildered and confused, but she had been too exhausted to feel anything but the aftermath of pain. Seeing that, he had strengthened her with a spell, and then given her the food. Only for a second had she eyed it carefully, considering poison, but if they wanted to kill her, nothing was there to stop them. So she had eaten, and he had sat with her and watched her do it. Later, he had vanished the chains holding her to the bed, and showed her the way to the bathroom, where a bath-tube full of warm water and bubbles, as well as some clean clothes, were waiting for her. There, he had even given her privacy, locking the door from the outside.

Later, he led her back to the bed and charmed the chains in place. Somewhere halfway through her bath, she had started to think again, mostly about her nearest future. She had had few doubts why he had done what he had done – the food and the bath, but there was nothing she could do about it. She was his prisoner, and this time he had his wand as well. And to escape she would have needed her own.

A force field much like the one keeping those not having the Dark Mark from entering the Astronomy Tower that fatal night in Hogwarts was once again erected, this time to stop her from escaping. It covered the door and the window, but instead of throwing her back from it on attempt to pass, it had been modified to cause pain and unconsciousness. And now their wands were charmed as well, so that only their truthful owners were able to use them. For Hermione they would be just a couple of useless wooden sticks.

She knew she couldn't stay in the bathroom forever as well, so she had risen, dried herself off and dressed, as slowly as possible, dreading what was to come. Another form of torture, perhaps not as painful as Pansy's Dark Curses, but in a way much worse.

Pansy had said he wanted her whole and untouched. And that could mean only one thing. But what could she do?

She could drown herself in the water, but she was not that desperate yet. The war was mostly about surviving, living one more moment until help came or a fortunate situation presented itself. She did not want to die. Not when she could live. Not when there was the possibility that one day she might see him again.

The surprise she got that night was perhaps even greater that the one she had given Pansy that same day. After having chained her back to the bed, the sadistic Death Eater gently pushed a wet curl from her face, kissed her on the forehead and wished her good night, then put out the candles and left the room.

And seven days later, she had still not come up with a plausible explanation for that.

But even though she still feared what he might do, evenings were the best time for her. She counted seconds, minutes, gritting her teeth and biting her lip in pain, determined not to scream. But this was a lost cause, and sooner or later she would have to give it up, and cry out her suffering. Pansy was always thrilled to hear her scream, so thrilled that sometimes she forgot to keep the curse strong, so that its intensity would lessen, and her pain would lessen with it. That was the easy way out – the louder she screamed the less pain she was in. And yet, despite all the torture, she was still too proud to take the easy way. During every curse, she counted how long she could keep from crying out, and she always tried to last at least a second longer than the previous time.

Her record for the Cruciatus was now two minutes and seventeen seconds. And she was proud of that.

Of all the Dark Curses, she hated the Glacialis most. Not because of its coldness or pain, but because of its slowness, graduality. Her days were just as slow as the Glacier Curse.

---

And this, Pansy-free day, was perhaps the slowest of them all. It had none of the physical pain and torture, and she could finally think in peace.

She thought of Draco. And then the peace was suddenly gone.

He can feel your pain… He feels every bit of your pain as if it were his own.

Those had been Harry's words, and despite him not denying this, Hermione hoped against all hope that Harry had been mistaken. Because if Draco had to feel everything she had felt these past seven days… the mere thought of it broke her heart.

Why couldn't this connection work the other way around? She would have been glad to share all his pain. Wasn't her love for him strong enough? Why did he have to love her that much? If he didn't, he would have not felt what she had.

Seven days of torture for both of them.

And the water in the bath-tube suddenly didn't sound that bad anymore.

---

She had never thought of it in that respect before. She had been given so little time to think about it at all. After having Harry yell it to her, they had gone home together, to the bedroom, and held each other, sitting in silence, just like Harry had found them afterwards. In fact, they hadn't spoken a single word because at that time, no words were necessary. Of course, at that point they thought that they had at least the following night.

She recalled the castle and the rain. She had been ready to Apparate back just when she had heard the cry. If she had Apparated back a second earlier…

She didn't know whether the girl had survived – the girl they had been torturing when she had interrupted them. She had been alive then, but she highly doubted they would have spared her life.

So in the end, had she Apparated back before hearing the scream, none of this would have happened. She would be with Draco, and he wouldn't have suffered seven days of torture.

One second can make all the difference in the world.

---

Pansy didn't come until nightfall. And even then she didn't come alone but brought Blaise with her.

Hermione raised herself into a sitting position and watched them walk up to the bed and her. Suddenly, a realization hit her.

They were here to kill her.

And oddly, the comprehension didn't sound quite that horrible to her.

"Did you miss me, Mudblood?" Pansy cooed, and there was something more to her voice than the usual malicious pleasure.

"Don't worry, I'm here now, baby."

Hermione turned to look at Blaise who had settled himself by the window and was now looking at the two women in front of him, clearly with no intentions to interrupt. He was just going to observe.

She had spent about 24 hours now without torture, and suddenly she felt stubborn again. If she was going to die in a couple of moments, which she was certain of, she was not going to die without giving them a piece of her mind first. She still had her Gryffindor pride, didn't she? She would die strong and stubborn, never weak or begging for mercy.

"Hello, Parkinson," she stated coolly. "As annoying as ever I see. No, bitch, now it's my turn to talk. I had to bear your babbling for seven days, and it was almost worse than those lovely curses you gave me. Seven days ago you found me, and you were shrieking with joy then, to have the opportunity to torture me. Seven days you have done exactly that. And now, seven days later, you have already bored of it. How shallow are you to lose your interest in only one week? No wonder Draco didn't want you. And I really hope you are not stupid enough to think that once you kill me, you can still torture me whenever you feel like it."

"Kill you? Why should I kill you?" Pansy replied. "Dead Mudbloods don't scream, just like you told me. No, baby, we're here for something entirely else. You see, I finally managed to convince Blaise-darling to let me use his shiny little knife."

Hermione didn't know whether to be happy or horrified at such news. On one hand, they were not going to kill her. Yet. But on the other, this meant more torture, more pain, more suffering, for both her and Draco.

She watched as Pansy gave her a dazzling smile, she saw her step up to Blaise, saw him draw the silver blade and hand it to Pansy, saw her turn around and walk towards the bed, saw her giving her a thoughtful and appreciative look, saw her turning the knife between her fingers into a better position, saw the gleam in her eyes, saw her bending over her body, felt the cold metallic blade against her skin, heard two words being spoken, in a cold calculative tone.

"Avada Kedavra."

She saw the surprise in Pansy's unseeing eyes, felt the knife slip from her hand onto the bed, saw her follow its fall. Blonde hair, blue eyes - still wide with shock. Her tormentor, her torturer, a Death Eater, an enemy. Someone who hated her so much. Someone who tortured her for seven days, someone who was thrilled to see her suffer, see her wriggle in pain, hear her scream out in anguish.

How had a girl this young gone from boys, make-up and gossip to torture, blood and murder? But that was it - boys. One boy. One Draco Malfoy. This was her revenge, and these were the times of war. These days, no one was innocent any more.

And yet, she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her. She could understand the idea of revenge, she had been there herself, every time when someone she knew had lost their lives. But Pansy's revenge had got her killed. And now she was dead.

And then she suddenly realized that the murderer of Pansy Parkinson was still in the room. And then she realized that Pansy Parkinson was really dead.

Blaise was holding his place by the window, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"She was annoying, wasn't she?" he asked with a sheepish grin.

"Why?"

"Why was she annoying or why did I kill her?"

"Why did you kill her?"

Pansy Parkinson, killed by her own accomplice, her own friend, her own lover.

"She was getting on my nerves. Kept pleading me for my knife. Wanted to cut you open like a pig. I couldn't let her do that, could I now, my sweet darling Hermione?"

His soft tones were laced with danger and power.

If a man would kill his own ally, friend and lover, what would he do to his enemy?

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"Hate you, sweetie? Who said I hate you?"

"You said it was personal. On my first night here you told me that."

"I did," he agreed. "It is indeed personal, baby. Only you are not that person."

"What?"

"I detest Draco Malfoy. I hate him from the bottom of my heart, soul and mind."

"Why?"

"Because he had it all. In Hogwarts he had the respect of every Slytherin and the drool of every girl, Slytherin or otherwise. He had his money and his name. Later he had the choice between Death Eaters and the Order. And now, finally, he got you as well - the smartest and prettiest witch in the whole England, probably."

Hermione was beyond shocked. The smartest and prettiest witch in the whole England, probably. He was lying, wasn't he?

"Jealousy? You're doing this because you're jealous of him?"

"You may call it that. But to me, it's simply a form of injustice. So perhaps now he doesn't have the respect of Slytherins any more, or his money, and I know his name is hated by both sides, and all the girls have probably better things to do as well. But he still has his place at the side of light, and he still has you. I just wanted to balance things a little."

"You envy him because he fights on our side?" she could not believe what she was hearing. "But so can you, Blaise, so can you. You saved me from Parkinson tonight, and if you take me back to the Order, I'm sure they'll accept you."

Hermione tried to quench the flame of hope in her heart and silence the voice in the back of her mind, which was singing One more for the Order, one more for the Light in whispering tones.

"Can I, Hermione?" he turned his gaze to look out of the window into the darkness, his fingers still playing with his wand. "Can I? I have murdered, killed, tortured and raped hundreds. I've done it on orders and I've done it by my own free will. I have loved doing it - hurting people, making them scream in pain, wielding the power to kill them. I never had any choice, nor do I have it now. I would never be accepted by your side."

"But if you regret your deeds..."

"But I don't. I don't regret killing all those Muggles and Mudbloods. I liked it, and I want to do it again. I will do it again."

She felt a shiver run down her spine and goosebumps erect on the back of her neck.

"Will you kill me now?" she asked.

"That's your choice, Mione." He now turned his glance to her and placed the wand on the windowsill. "It's a simple choice - live or die."

"And now you came for my answer?"

"Not yet. I'll give you one more night. Tomorrow, I want your answer. Today, you can ask me whatever you wish to know."

One more night. A couple of more hours to live.

"And if I choose life?"

"Then you live."

"What life would I live?"

Something flashed in his eyes.

"You live here, with me."

"As your prisoner?"

"As my girlfriend."

---

Upon entering the room, Ron threw his bag to the floor as if it was all its fault, glared at it for a moment and then stumped his way to the couch and fell upon it.

"Bad day?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Moody seems to be sending everyone to fake missions these days."

"You too, eh? Do you think he has found out we're looking for Hermione on our own and now tries to stop us?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer but was halted by green flames springing to life followed by a heavy thud. They watched in awe as a figure covered in dirt and blood stumbled out of the fireplace, straightened itself with the support of the mantelpiece, and surveyed the room in front of it.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" it demanded at last.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ron countered.

Malfoy glared at him for a moment, then looked down at himself as if he had not noticed before the condition he was in.

"I had a mission," he answered simply, limped over to the couch and sat down heavily, throwing back his head and covering his face with hands. He stayed that way so long, motionless, that even Ron was starting to feel a little concerned which he showed by elbowing Harry in the ribs and motioning towards Malfoy with his eyes.

Harry just shrugged, first. But when the clock on the wall had already moved ahead some good ten minutes, he decided it was time to stop the uncomfortable silence.

"Umm... Malfoy?"

"Why are you still here, Potter?" came the quiet irritated answer, although he still didn't make a move.

"Because we agreed to go looking for Hermione again today."

At that Malfoy dropped his hands from his face and stared at the opposite wall for a minute.

"I'll be back in a moment," he informed them before standing up and limping to the bedroom.

A quarter of hour later he was back, all the blood and dirt washed off to reveal several large bruises and cuts on his face and forearms.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?" Ron asked again, but only got a grunt for an answer. Harry however suddenly realized that there was a better solution to things. Before anyone could react, simply because they never saw it coming from him, he had drawn his wand, pointed it and said a spell. For a moment, a purple circle hovered round his target's leg, then it was gone taking the pain with it.

Harry Potter had just used a healing spell on Draco Malfoy.

"That's it, Potter!" the latter whirled around, clearly aware of the absence of the pain. "Stop being nice to me!"

Harry only shrugged again and ignored Ron's open jaw.

---

"Nott!" the girl called out in surprise. "I thought you were in Murmansk."

"Natasha sends her regards," the boy answered. "What's up, Milla?"

Millicent seated herself next to Nott, and across from Crabbe and Goyle.

"Oh, you two here as well?" she asked merrily. "I heard you had quite a day."

"What do you mean?" asked Goyle, looking just as stupid as he always had.

"Well, you're quite the heroes of the day, with your beating up Draco. I heard he looked like a bloody plump afterwards."

Nott smirked, but Goyle couldn't hold back a snigger.

"Yeah, that was good. I really enjoyed punching the crap out of him."

Crabbe sent his counterpart a quizzical look, but didn't say a word.

"Yes, well," commented Millicent. "It wasn't that long ago when we were all sitting around the same table and laughing over the same jokes. He was a great guy with the best sense of humour. I rather miss his sarcasm."

"A dangerous thing to say about one's enemy," Nott warned.

"Enemy. Just a little ago he was my friend. I seem to be losing too many of them with this war. Draco's gone, I haven't heard from Blaise I don't know how long, and recently Pansy has disappeared as well. Daphne was rather worried about her, she said they were going to meet but she never did show up. I'm hoping for the best of course, but I can't stop thinking that she's lying in some lone cold ditch somewhere."

Nott remained aloof. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged one too meaningful glance.

"Once we win this war, Milla, every loss we have bore will be repaid."

"How can you say that, Theo? They were our friends. We can't bring them back from death once the war is over."

Suddenly Millicent burst into laughing - it was a bitter mirthless sound which somehow resembled more to sobbing.

"Wonder what a Gryffindor would say, if they heard us speak these words. They have always thought us, Slytherins, cold heartless bastards who hate and despise everyone, even the people of our own house. They think we have no friends, at least not the way they do, and that we care for none except ourselves. And then they have the nerve to call us prejudiced."

"It's just a survival technique, Milla. Care for nobody beside yourself, this way you'll never get hurt."

"Don't tell that to Natasha, Theo."

"Natasha is not here, in the middle of the hearth of war. She lives as a Snow Queen in the castle of ice, and she is safe there."

Millicent looked a bit suspicious.

"Never heard you speak that poetically, Theo. Are you all right?"

"Just had a long day. What news have you got, Milla?"

"You will never guess who I ran into yesterday," Millicent grinned gleefully.

"Who?" Nott raised a brow.

"Neville Longbottom."

"That cowardly pansy? Still alive? I thought he would manage to blow himself up the minute he stepped into the real world. And I'm sure it was him who ran into you, that clumsy git. Where did you meet him anyway?"

Millicent was suddenly frowning and even looked a bit angry, although the reason behind it was unclear.

"In St. Mungo. He was visiting his parents, I gather."

"Oh, those two loonies. I can't see why they still keep them, I would have put them to sleep a long time ago. It's not like they have any hope," Nott sneered.

By now, Millicent was looking positively livid.

"You wouldn't say those words if it were your parents there!" she hissed at him.

Nott looked at her calculatingly.

"You feel sorry for Longbottom?" he asked, his tone indicating that he could not think of anything more disgusting.

"No!" Millicent said a little too fast. "No, it's just that... Do you remember the thing we discussed before you went to Russia, Theo?"

She was eyeing him carefully, hoping to see his reaction, but none came.

"Which thing?" Nott only asked.

"The Thing," Millicent whispered urgently.

Goyle snickered, but fell silent at Crabbe elbowing him.

"Milla..." Nott began darkly.

"I know," the girl sighed. "It's not safe here. It's not safe anywhere. If it got out, we would be dead before we had any time to even deny the accusations."

She looked around warily, too see if anyone was paying them a little too much attention.

"But did you think about it, Theo?" she turned back to him. "You said you would. Did you?"

He nodded. "I did, Milla."

"Well then, I suppose I'll talk to you later," the girl smiled and after saying goodbyes to Crabbe and Goyle as well, stood from the table and left the inn.

"What was that all about?" Goyle asked a moment later.

Nott smirked.

"Never thought it would be Longbottom," was all he said.

Author's Notes:

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