Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Harry Potter Universe. It all belongs to the Queen, J.K.
Beta Love: Dreamingofstars85
A/N: I feel like I say this every week, but seriously, you guys! I am floored! You are all so amazing! Your comments are everything! I cannot believe between FFN & A03 I have 260 comments and 450 subscriptions/alerts! THAT IS INSANE! Siriusly! Gah! So much love to you all! **SO, I have two quick notes for ya'll. One is about our favourite snake man: Voldemort here is not nasty non-human snake man. He is still human. Second is that there will be no update the second week of May. I will be on vacation (wahooo!). I just wanted to give an early heads up, so it's not a shock to anyone. Without further ado, enjoy!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ecstasy
Hermione was pacing. She was finally healed enough that her body no longer ached with every move she made, and once she realised that, the pacing began. It hadn't stopped either. It had been days of just sitting, waiting, staring into the darkness and wondering. Now that she could move again, she felt like she could plan. Exercising her legs was jump-starting her mind.
So she paced, and she thought. Six days had passed since she was brought to Malfoy Manor, and this nightmare began. The only way she was able to keep track of time was with Draco's visits. One in the morning, and one in the afternoon. Then she was on her own until the next morning.
Every day that Draco came to her, he tried to talk her into his ridiculous plan, and every day she agreed to disagree with said ridiculous plan. He would give her facts and positive outcomes; she would give him doubts and holes in the logistics. He had even reduced himself to begging the last couple of visits, but she would not be swayed.
When Narcissa herself had shown up a couple nights ago, Hermione had been sure it was Bellatrix, come to finish her off in the seclusion of the dungeons. At Narcissa's calm voice greeting her that night, relief had washed through her body, nearly overwhelming her. After a moment, she was able to shake the feeling, offering a polite "Hello" back. It was awkward being treated so...sophisticatedly, as she sat wearing the woman's son's clothes, in a dirty prison cell.
After asking if there was anything Hermione was in need of or anything she could do for her, Narcissa had squared her shoulders almost imperceptibly and used what Hermione had guessed was her persuasive voice.
"Darling, Draco has told me of your reluctance. It's uite silly, if you ask me. We have a plan to help you, all you have to do is go along with it."
"Mrs Malfoy, I truly appreciate your willingness to help me. Especially when the risks are so high. But I cannot turn my back on the Order, even for a ruse."
"You wouldn't be turning your back, dear. You would simply have to pretend—"
"I have thought about it, I truly have. But my options here are limited. I will absolutely not let myself be married off and subsequently raped by whatever Death Eater they give me to, in order to save my skin. That leaves me with one other option, in your plan: to convince You-Know-Who so completely of my allegiance to him that he has no doubts whatsoever. In order to do that, I would have to take th mark, and submit myself to him. I would rather die."
"That may be your only option, darling, if you choose to do nothing," Narcissa said in sombre truth.
"I trust that Harry will find a way to me." Hermione crossed her arms, and Narcissa simply stood, staring at her for a long moment. When she finally spoke again, she sounded sad.
"I do hope you let us help you, Hermione."
She had left without another word, and Hermione spent the rest of the night thinking through their plan all over again. No matter how many twists and tweaks she made to it, there was no path she could take that would let her leave this whole. Married off or marked, either way, darkness would enter her soul.
xXxXxXx
Draco was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, working his way through his breakfast plate and waiting for his shift in the dungeons to begin. He had two more days to convince Hermione that she had to go along with this plan. He was leaving for Hogwarts in just two days, and she needed to be on board before then.
Why was she so fucking stubborn?! How does Potter deal with her? He stabbed aggressively at the eggs on his plate as he sneered at himself. For the first time in his life, he was wishing for advice from the bloody chosen one. What the fuck?
Grumbling to himself, he hadn't noticed when someone else entered the room and walked to stand next to him. A throat cleared and Draco looked up to see his father standing next to him, impatient as always.
"Father," he said dryly, focusing his attention back on his eggs. There was a time when all Draco had wanted to do was impress the man standing there, but that time was long past. The boy Draco had been grew up into a man who knew the difference between right and wrong, and while he couldn't always do the right thing, he at least felt remorse for his transgressions.
His father, on the other hand, had no such sympathies. The man was heartless and wicked to the core.
"Draco, finish your breakfast. The Dark Lord has need of you," Lucius said cooly, eying his son in distaste.
"Why? What does he want?" Draco asked as he set his fork down, suddenly having lost his appetite.
"I do not question the Dark Lord, son, and you would be wise to follow suit," Lucius spat.
Draco pushed his chair back, standing up and dusting his hands together to hide his nervousness. It didn't matter how many times he met with the man, he would never be desensitised to this terror.
The walk to the ballroom was short, and as Lucius entered the room, Draco wondered exactly what was going on; he was hardly ever called in to see the Dark Lord. His stomach twisted into knots as fear crawled up his spine. Does he know about Hermione? About the plan?
He didn't have time to question it any further. As he walked into the room he was greeted with a smile and prayed to Salazar that that was a good sign. The Dark Lord was generally not a hard man to read. He didn't bother hiding his emotions; when you had no qualms about maiming or killing those around you, there really was no need to try for subtlety.
Draco briefly wondered if the man simply glamoured himself, or if he had truly found a spell to stop his ageing, as was the rumour. He didn't look older than 50, and his appearance hadn't changed in all the years Draco had known him: shortly kept dark hair, sharp features, pale skin. He always wore black robes and trousers and had an air of finesse that seemed to swell around him. If you could ignore the fact that he was cloaked in evil, the man wasn't bad looking.
When their eyes met, Draco bowed slightly before clasping his hands behind his back. "My Lord."
"Draco, thank you for coming. I have a special little project for you." Voldemort sat in the throne-like chair at the front of the room.
"Of course, my Lord. What can I do for you?"
"There have been rumours of a safe-house that the Order is using. I want you to find out if they are true."
"Yes, My Lord," Draco said, bowing his head slightly in acquiescence.
"You will leave this afternoon with Mulciber, Travers, and Rabastan. Once you are finished, they will take you directly to Hogwarts."
"Very well, My Lord," Draco said, an icy panic rising in his chest.
"If you do find anyone there," Voldemort said, looking at his hands in front of him as if to check his cuticles, "kill them."
Draco nodded, knowing he had been dismissed and left the room.
He headed straight down to the cells with a cold lump sitting in his chest. Entering the room, he was met with an annoyed Goyle, standing impatiently near the door.
"You're late."
"The Dark Lord asked to see me. If you have a problem, take it up with him," Draco snapped, brushing past Goyle and sitting roughly in the chair.
"Oh shit. Is everything alright?"
"It's fine. Just sending me out on a quick mission."
Goyle nodded, "Alright, see you later then."
"Yeah," Draco said, watching as Goyle left through the door. He gave him a moment to make it to the top of the stairs before setting the alarm spell, and turning toward Hermione's cell. He slowly made his way there; nerves eating him up. This would be the last time he saw her for—who knows how long. He had to convince her to go along with the plan today. This was his last shot.
xXxXxXx
Hermione sat a little straighter when she heard the footsteps down the hall. She wanted to assume it would be Draco, but she couldn't let her guard down that much. If she got too relaxed, she wouldn't be prepared—and she had to stay prepared—alert. Draco only had two more days before he would go back to school, and she had no idea what would happen to her after that.
His familiar voice echoed quietly into her cell, "It's me."
"Hey." She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at his arrival.
He walked in, taking a seat beside her without a word, but angled his body slightly to face her. Drawing her knees into her chest, Hermione turned toward him as well, and wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her head on the bridge they created. She tucked her toes just under his thigh, comforted by even the smallest contact between them.
Silence.
She eyed him quietly for a moment, a pit forming in her stomach. He wasn't normally this melancholy when he walked in. He reserved it for after she had refused his plan. Hermione nervously wiggled the elastic from her hair, setting her curls free and running a hand through the mess, trying not to imagine the worst. Tugging on a lock near her face, she questioned him. "Draco, what's happened?"
"I got an assignment," he said flatly.
Confused, she furrowed her brow. ". . .Okay? What assignment?"
"It's just a run of the mill check on a lead, something about finding an Order safe house, but—" he ran a frustrated hand down his face, sighing loudly.
"But what?"
"I leave this afternoon." Draco was looking down, not having looked her in the eyes at all yet.
"Okay, well, it could be worse, right?" she asked, unsure why he was taking this so hard. It didn't seem too dangerous, or bad, exactly. What was she missing?
He sighed again, sounding annoyed. "Of course it could be worse."
"Then what's the problem?"
"What's the—?" he didn't finish his question. Instead, he stood up and took several steps from her, his back turned. She could see his fists balled up at his sides.
"Draco, what is going on?" she asked, standing as well. The tension and frustration radiating from him were almost palpable.
"We need to get the details of this plan ironed out, but it's incredibly difficult to do that when you refuse to go along with it!" he growled.
"Oh, that." She said it under her breath, but everything was louder in the silence of the cell, and he spun around to face her, clearly having heard.
"Yes, that! Why won't you accept that this is the only option, Hermione? You are being stubborn and stupid! I need you to do this!" It was the first time he'd yelled at her since their earliest meetings in Hogwarts, and while it had only served to anger her then, this time she felt the sting of hurt bewilderment.
Her brows furrowed, and she took a small step away from him. "I don't know why you're acting like this. You know I can't do that." Her voice was small and trembled slightly.
It was a lie. She did know why he was being like this. Or at least, she could guess. Over the last several months they had developed a strange friendship; knowing someone's secrets, and sharing in them, had a way of bringing people together. She knew he worried about her, just as she worried for him—having to leave her in a cell with only Death Eaters for company was going to do nothing to ease his worry, obviously—but he was being ridiculous and over the top. They both knew she would be relatively safe for now—being a Death Eater's daughter had perks, apparently, though how long that would last couldn't be guaranteed. Once those perks ran dry, there was no doubt she would be faced with an irate and wrathful Bellatrix, but for now, she tried not to think about the implications of that scenario.
"You don't know why—Merlin woman you are aggravating!" He ran his hands through his hair, grabbing at the blond locks and pulling in frustration.
"I don't know what you want from me, Malfoy! I can't be someone I'm not!" she yelled, exasperated. He had this ability to bring her emotions from zero to ten in a frighteningly quick way. Not to mention she didn't appreciate being yelled at.
"I want you fucking safe, Granger!" he fumed stepping toward her and grasping her arms, pinning them to the sides. "I want you to not be locked in a fucking cell, essentially a sitting duck for my mad aunt to do as she pleases. I want you out of bloody danger!" His face was inches from hers, and his hands were gripping her a little too tightly. She could feel him shaking as he yelled at her.
"Too bad!" she screamed. "It's not exactly a possibility right now, and it wouldn't be even if I went along with your stupid plan! I will never be safe in this war!" Hermione wiggled slightly, bringing her arms up to push at his chest. His grip didn't loosen though, he just pulled her closer and held tighter—their faces were so close that she could feel his breath.
"You are so stubborn!" he growled with seething impatience. As he looked her in the eyes for the first time today, however, everything began to soften. His hands loosened, though he kept a light grip; his expression wavered, morphing into desperation. "I can't leave you here."
"Why do you even care so much?" she asked. Looking into his eyes, Hermione felt her own temper subsiding and her body relaxed some of the tension it had been holding.
Draco held her for a moment, a rattled expression shaping his features, before he let one of her arms go, bringing his hand up and trailing it across her cheekbone, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Hermione felt the shift in his behaviour immediately and her eyes widened.
"Why do I care? Merlin, Hermione. For the brightest witch of our age, you really are daft," he whispered, leaning in.
Time seemed to slow as Draco gently laced his fingers through the curls at the nape of her neck. He held her steady for a moment, looking into her eyes, causing her heart to race. She swallowed as she met his gaze, involuntarily closing her eyes when he captured her lips with his own in a tender kiss. Hermione hadn't been expecting it, and couldn't help the small moan that escaped her throat at the contact.
That delicious moan had been all the confirmation he needed. Draco moved the hand that was gripping her arm around to her lower back, pulling her into him and closing the distance between their bodies. He had expected her to push him away, to slap him even, so when she instead clutched desperately at the fabric on his chest, it only increased his need for her. He ran his tongue along her lips in a silent request and she opened to him in response. Moving his tongue into the wet warmth of her mouth, he nearly lost all control when she gently pushed her own tongue forward to meet his. A low groan escaped him at the sensation, and he stepped closer until her back was against the wall behind her, pressing his body into hers and pinning her there. He moved his hands to rest on her hips and lost himself to her as she moaned again, releasing his shirt to move her arms around his neck and grip his hair passionately.
Merlin, this is ecstasy, he thought, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. He ran a slow hand up her side, feeling her shudder at the contact, her head falling back as she gasped at his touch. Her needy response was unexpected, and only served to urge him on; he dipped his hands under the hem of her baggy shirt, spreading his fingers wide, touching as much of her skin as he could. He ran his thumbs up slowly, and gripped her hips, tilting them into his own. Bringing his mouth back to hers, he kissed her again, nipping at her bottom lip and relishing in the taste of her, devouring each little moan and sigh of pleasure she made.
Draco moved one of his hands up her body over the shirt, grinning when her breath hitched sharply as he grazed her breast, though he reluctantly continued its ascent, cupping her jaw as he tenderly kissed her once more. He drew back regretfully, resting his forehead on hers, and listened to her ragged breathing. He let the hand on her face ease back, gently tangling into her curls, while his other still gripped her hip under the shirt.
"Salazar, Granger," he murmured when he finally found his voice. "I should have done that a lot sooner."
She laughed nervously and turned her head slightly, burying it in the crook of his neck. Her arms slid down, resting on his chest once more, but her breathing was still ragged; it was taking every bit of willpower he had not to kiss her again. When she finally brought her head up and pushed at him a little, he took half a step back to look in her eyes.
Even in the darkness, he could see the tears forming there.
Gently taking her face in both of his hands, he tilted it up slightly, "Hey, what's the matter?" he asked softly. When she merely answered with a shake of her head, a frightening realisation crashed over him and he dropped his hands immediately as he began to back away. "I didn't mean to—I thought you wanted to… shite, Hermione, I'm so sorry."
Relief flooded him when she only gripped his shirt tighter, pulling him back into her even as he tried to back away. "No, no it's not that. I just—" she paused for a moment, her next words coming out in barely a whisper, "I don't want you to go."
He sighed, wrapping his arms around her tightly—there was really nothing he could say about that. At least nothing that would make it any better. So he held her, running his hand from her head, down her back, trying to comfort the girl he was about to leave alone in a snake pit.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't want to leave. Maybe I can—maybe I can find a way to come back, you know, leave early. If I—" she shook her head against his chest, cutting him off.
She had an annoying habit of that.
"You can't. You have to go back. There's nothing here for you except more danger. Besides, I need you to get a message to the Order—tell them I'm here, hopefully help them figure out a decent plan to get me out."
Draco scoffed, knowing full well that the Order wouldn't be able to help her, even if they wanted to. It would be too risky trying to get in the manor—they would lose too many members, and they wouldn't risk it to rescue one person, no matter who it was. Instead of pointing that out, again, he responded by simply ignoring the second half of that statement. "I know I have to go back—doesn't mean I want to."
"I don't know what I'm going to do without you," she sighed, looking up at him.
When their eyes met, Draco felt that tightening in his chest—and elsewhere—again, and wanted nothing more than to lean down and snog her senseless. Again. Instead, he reached out, tucking one of her wayward curls behind her ear, running his fingers through her hair.
Attempting to run his fingers through her hair.
"Salazar, Granger, ever heard of a brush?" he chuckled, as he disentangled his hand from her head.
The moment was broken, but she laughed at him—the first time he'd heard her laugh in ages—and swatted at his chest. "Don't be a prat!"
"I'll bring you a brush," he said, finally freeing his hand entirely of not only her twisted locks, but the straggling hairs that decided to attach themselves to his fingers.
"Won't someone notice? I mean, that you've brought all these things to me?" she asked, sounding concerned.
"Oh, you mean water, a clean shirt, and a brush? Yeah, Granger, those will be the first things they search your cell for," he said dryly, rolling his eyes.
"No, seriously Draco. They'll know you're helping me."
"One, no one will check, so no one will know. Two, if someone checked, and that is a big if, they honestly wouldn't notice or care that you have a brush— have you seen your hair lately? They would probably owl me a thank you note. Third— no, don't interrupt," he held a finger up as her mouth opened, stopping her protest before she was able to get it out. "Third, I believe I have found you an ally here."
"Draco, if this has anything to do with your ridiculous plan or your mother, I don't even want to hear it."
"Since I know how much you like listening to the sound of my voice, it's lucky for you that it has to do with neither of those." He smirked as she hit him again. There was something about her thinking that those tiny little hands could inflict pain— without a wand— that made him want to laugh.
"Alright then, spill."
"I may or may not have illegally drugged someone with Veritaserum in order to obtain this information," he said, watching for her reaction. In school, she was so bloody split between following the rules, and breaking every single one of them with Potty and the Weasel, that he wasn't sure how she would react to this bit of bending he'd done.
"I may or may not have brewed Polyjuice Potion second year in order to impersonate students to find the Heir of Slytherin," she said, then adding under her breath, "And they may or may not have been your friends."
"You what?!"
"Oh, I thought we were giving useless tidbits about past deeds that can't be changed, and technically didn't harm anyone in the long run," she shrugged, hiding the faintest smirk on her lips.
"Bloody hell, witch," Draco said, running a hand down his face. He couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. "Alright then, we will most certainly come back to that little admission at a later time. For now, we have a time limit and important things to discuss."
She raised her eyebrows waiting for him to continue, and suddenly Draco was nervous. It was one thing to get Rowle on his side, but another thing entirely to get Hermione on Rowle's side. He tortured her for Salazar's sake, why would she ever trust him? Bloody hell, he should have thought this through a little more.
"You're not going to like it." He took a deep breath.
"What's new then," she rolled her eyes, unconcerned. "I haven't liked any of your plans, yet."
"Thorfinn Rowle."
"What?" she said, taken aback.
"It's Rowle. He's the one who's going to help."
Hermione swiftly ducked around him and walked to the other side of the cell, a whole four steps away—four small steps. He turned, watching her back as she obviously took a deep breath.
"You realise he tortured me, right Malfoy?" The way she spat his name felt like a kick in the gut.
"I'm aware," he said, trying not to let her icy tone affect him. "But he is a friend, Hermione, and I trust him."
"Oh, wonderful, Draco. You willingly put your trust in a man who tortured me. That's really reassuring," she fumed.
"It's not like that, Hermione." Walking toward her he put his hand on her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. "He didn't exactly have a choice, and I hate to say this, but if he hadn't done a thorough job, if there had been any room for doubt, the Dark Lord would have just had someone else do it. And it would have been much worse, I can guarantee that."
"So just because it could have been worse, you want me to trust this man? Draco, he tortured me! Do you even know what that's like? To be cursed three times by your crazy aunt, only to be revived and tortured all over again by some stranger digging around in your mind!?"
"I do," he said quietly and watched as her anger faded slightly, understanding and tenderness replacing it.
"I didn't know," she said softly.
"It's not like I advertise my fucked up home life, Hermione. But yes, I do know what that's like. My aunt isn't known to go easy on anyone, even family. I've had the pleasure of being at the end of several wands aimed for torture. Rowle's is most certainly the one I'd prefer."
She reached out and touched his cheek, sweeping her delicate fingers across his jawline before drawing it back, staring at him a moment, then walking past him to sit against the wall once more. She patted the ground next to her motioning for him to sit, and so he did.
"Alright then, tell me about this Rowle." She sounded resigned, and as much as Draco hated the feeling that she was only being so cooperative because she pitied him, he still took advantage of the fact that she was even being cooperative. Very un-Hermione of her.
"I'm not sure where to start," he confessed.
"The beginning is usually a good place."
"She has humour?" he chuckled, relaxing a bit.
When she scooted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, he did his best not to react even though all he wanted to do was pull her into him and possibly never let go. Pushing that thought aside, he focused instead on getting her to trust Rowle.
"I've been friends with him for a couple of years, but we weren't very close until more recently. We had to spend a lot of time together over the summer… working. There aren't many Death Eaters our age—you know he's only a couple years older than us—plus it's easy to see he isn't dedicated to the cause if you know what you're looking for."
"And I assume you do?"
"Well, it takes one to know one, love."
She scoffed, shaking her head slightly, but he continued. "Anyway, I knew he wasn't very supportive of the way the Dark Lord went about things, but I wasn't sure if he was supportive of the ideals, the reasons. It isn't something you can just ask, you know. So I had him in for a spot of firewhisky the other night, laced it with Veritaserum, and figured him out." He purposefully left out the fact that things hadn't exactly gone to plan.
"And I assume that he proved… trustworthy?" she asked, sitting up and looking at him.
"He made a Wizard's Promise, Hermione."
"Oh," she said, apparently not expecting that.
"He said he was quite impressed by you, too. Said he didn't even know you'd been using Occlumency until you were nearly blacked out, at the end."
"He couldn't tell?" she asked, surprised.
"No, he had no idea, so whatever you've been doing, it's working." Draco paused for a moment, hoping that she would at least go with him on this. She needed someone she could trust while he was gone. He needed it—to know she had someone on her side. "You can trust him, Hermione."
She shook her head, "I don't know. I'll think about it, I guess. It's not like I'll have much else to do while you're gone."
Draco sighed, resting his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Stubborn Gryffindor," he mumbled, though a smile crossed his face. She laughed again, and the sound made his smile grow, spreading wide across his face. Salazar, he was becoming a bloody girl, he thought, trying to wipe the offending grin from his face.
"Alright. You think about it, but if I know Rowle, you won't have much time to 'think'," he said, making little air quotes. It was the perfect excuse to raise his arms, and then subtly put one around the witch currently leaning on him. He smirked, continuing. "He is interested in you and wants to get to know you better. My guess is he will formally introduce himself to you his next shift."
"Ugh," she groaned, adjusting herself slightly to accommodate the arm now around her back. "Pushy Slytherin."
"Hey, aren't Gryffindors supposed to be all about making new friends and shit?"
"That's Hufflepuffs and you know it, prat," she laughed, swatting his knee. Her laughter died quickly though, and soon she was quiet. Draco assumed she was thinking about him leaving, same as he was. He glanced down at his watch and his heart sank. Five minutes. How had it gone by so quickly today?
A faint panic crawled up his spine, settling itself dead centre in his chest. When he cleared his throat quietly she turned her head to look up at him, and Draco watched her expression falter when she saw his frown.
"I have to leave."
She sighed deeply, turning her head away from him. "I know."
"I don't—"
"It's alright, Draco. I'll be fine."
Removing his arm from around her shoulders, Draco stood, offering his hand to her once he did. She took it, and they both stood awkwardly facing each other, not knowing how to say goodbye.
"I'm going to come back as soon as I can, Hermione, but I don't know when that will be. You've got to trust Rowle, or at least try." He gently cupped her chin, tilting her face up until her gaze met his own. "Please," he whispered.
A single tear escaped from her eye, sliding down her cheek. Draco swiped it away with his thumb, before leaning down and capturing her lips with his own.
This kiss was different. It was tender, and sweet, and full of promise—and regret. It lasted only a moment before he was pulling away, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him.
"I'm sorry, Hermione."
Her throat was constricted, and the weight sitting on her chest felt so heavy that all Hermione could do to answer was nod her head. Draco was leaving, and she was about to be alone in this nightmare. The terror of that realisation filled her so completely that she had to spend the next moment focusing on making sure her body continued to breathe. In, and out. His arms were wrapped around her, holding tightly, and she was sure that she was going to fall apart once he let go. He placed a light kiss on the top of her head and stepped away, leaving her feeling exposed, cold, and terrified.
Draco paused at the door, looking at her once more, before closing and locking it behind him and walking away. She heard his footsteps grow faint until there was nothing but silence surrounding her—suffocating her.
She was alone.
xXxXxXx