Getting Through Tomorrow

Chapter 11: The Break

If Hermione were still attending Hogwarts, she'd be enjoying an Easter holiday with the Weasleys. She was instead being brutally dragged through the ominous iron gates of Malfoy Manor by Fenrir Greyback and his band of ragamuffins. Ron was too angry to reason properly, but they were both helping to conceal Harry's identity for as long as possible.

She needed to search her surroundings for some vital clues. Anything out of the ordinary could potentially aid them in their escape, and she knew that she would find something. She always did. Cataloguing every detail of their situation, her eyes scanned the grand room. They had no allies in sight. They had no wands. There was no way to call for help. Their situation seemed bleak until her eyes eventually fell upon someone of interest.

Narcissa Malfoy stood protectively clutching her son's arm. It looked as though she didn't want him to move any closer to his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, and the other Death Eaters. When Hermione had last seen Narcissa, she had been a well-kept woman. Without her haughty and unflattering facial expressions, Hermione might have even called her beautiful at one time.

Narcissa was no longer the stylish, spoiled, and pampered aristocrat's wife. Her dull fingernails were bitten down to the skin where they looked jagged and raw. A silver barrette held her once magnificent hair in a haphazard bun. She was visibly nervous about the events taking place in her home. Fear defined the woman. Hermione could see that Narcissa was completely overcome by it, and the entire family appeared desperate. Draco was barely speaking, and Lucius Malfoy looked uncouth and just as deranged as his sister-in-law.

Hermione watched helplessly as Ron and Harry were taken away from her, and Bellatrix was pulling her to the ground by her neck. Their captors had discovered her identity, so she braced herself for torture. She heard the vile woman cast the Cruciatus Curse, and she screamed before it even hit her. The depraved curse silenced the scream as it paralyzed her with pain. She could barely breath, so the only sound that she could produce was a guttural groan. Like a shaken rag doll, her body uncontrollably thrashed about, and her limbs were repeatedly thrown against the cold floor. She began screaming again when the curse was lifted, but it left her too weak to struggle when Bellatrix knelt over her and carved into her ivory skin with a knife.

Hermione refused to answer Bellatrix's questions truthfully, so her torment continued. She began to feel dizzy, and she must have lost track of time because the Death Eaters were suddenly fetching Griphook and leaving her bleeding on the hearth.

Narcissa was only a few steps away, and the Death Eaters were temporarily distracted. If Hermione wanted to influence the frightened woman, she needed to act immediately.

She rolled onto her side and slowly raised herself from the floor. Her trembling legs could not support her full weight, but she clutched at the wall as she stumbled closer to Narcissa.

Summoning her confidence, she spoke in a voice that was quiet and firm, "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa looked at Hermione as if she wasn't sure that the girl had really just dared to speak to her. "What did you just say to me, Mudblood?" She used the derogatory term without conviction.

Unaffected by Narcissa's insult, Hermione answered, "I'm complimenting you on your home. I visited a friend here about three months ago. I only saw his room, but there was a lovely painting of the house hanging over the bed."

Narcissa looked scandalized. "How do you know that?"

There was only one painting of Malfoy Manor hanging in the house, and it was in the Dark Lord's room. As a Slytherin, Narcissa would never admit that information to Hermione, but the older woman began to doubt.

Hermione was counting on that doubt. If the Malfoys lost respect for their master, then they might be able to tip the scales in the war. They all looked miserable already. A family of such wealth and privilege couldn't possibly live in the gutter for much longer.

Hermione was running out of time. She needed to tell Narcissa as much as possible.

"Your Dark Lord invited me here. We made love in that room . . ." She remembered more of the room's opulent details and continued her description of it. "I was impressed by the vast collection of magical literature lining the walls. The shelves were so tall that they seemed to disappear into an endless shadow as the room was too dark to see how high the ceiling really was. It was all so lovely."

"You lie!" Narcissa was absolutely horrified and failing to hide it.

Hermione smiled mischievously and started to speak in a more goading tone. "You know that I'm not. Does it sicken you to know that your Dark Lord had me on your green, satin, Pureblood sheets? He tells you all not to sully yourselves with the likes of me, but he can do as he pleases?"

"No! You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Granger." Narcissa looked across the room at Bella and added, "If my sister hears you . . ."

Hermione caught herself as she stumbled and exclaimed, "What? What more could she possibly do to me? She's already going to kill me! I have something to tell you, and you must listen! Your lord is a Half-Blood with a vendetta against Muggle-borns only because a Muggle-born girl rejected him when he was still at Hogwarts. It's as simple as that. He is a power-hungry manipulator, and he has lied to all of you! A ghost at Hogwarts, Moaning Myrtle, will confirm it. You need only ask. Think about . . ."

She never got to finish her sentence because Bellatrix noticed her speaking. She screeched, "I didn't tell you to get up, you filth! Get back down."

Narcissa believed Hermione. To her knowledge, there was no way that a Gryffindor could lie that well to her. There was also no way that the girl could have described that room unless she had really been there. The Dark Lord had invited an enemy into her home, and he had let her leave unharmed. She was in shock. A Mudblood the same age as her son had spent the night in that room, and her family had been completely unaware of it. Narcissa was tired of her family being used for the Dark Lord's cause. The danger that they were in made her ill, but she was powerless to stop it. All she could do was wait for an opportunity to break free while her sister and the others caused further mayhem under her roof.

Bellatrix cursed Hermione and she slid down the wall to the floor. Her head began to spin, and it seemed to her like several things were happening at once. She saw Harry and Ron appear in the room. Wands were flying about, and Death Eaters were shouting for someone to summon their master. People were dueling, but she couldn't keep up with everything. She sucked in her breath as Bellatrix ripped her from the floor and held a weapon to her throat. She didn't know if it was the wand or the knife, but its point was painful against her skin.

It took only seconds for Dobby to save her and the other prisoners. She was suddenly kneeling in Ron's arms on the soft beach near Shell Cottage. Her eyes glanced momentarily to Dobby's dead body cradled in Harry's arms, but her thoughts were still set on Narcissa Malfoy as Ron walked her into the cottage.