Trigger warning: this chapter contains instances of sexual harassment. Nothing explicit, but the content may be difficult to read. I will insert bold asterisks (*****) before and after each part.
Chapter 29—Learning to Cope
March
Draco...
When Hermione awoke, she immediately registered that something was off.
The air in her cell was different. It didn't seem that the bars that comprised the door were bespelled, as they had been for the duration of her capture. The magical energy that usually surged around those rusted metal rods was conspicuously absent. Moreover, there was no longer that thick silence she'd become accustomed to pervading the air. Instead, the atmosphere around her carried a cold, light quality that she assumed would not remain undisturbed for long. After all, there was no way her captors would leave the dungeon like this for long—there had to be something coming.
The anticipation was almost worse this time, and some lingering feeling of foreboding settled deep in Hermione's stomach. There had been very little activity lately, and it was nearly impossible to tell how long she had been waiting for another visit from the people holding her captive. She hadn't even been visited by another phantom-Draco, though it wasn't for lack of trying.
As much as she wracked her brain, Hermione could not understand why her mate had come to her in a dream. There was nothing that bothered the young Gryffindor more than a puzzle she couldn't solve, but nowhere in her extensive reading on Veela did she ever encounter any information on semi-realistic visions or anything of the sort. The frustration built until she shook her head and chalked it up to some magical preservation mechanism, though that didn't sit right with her. She sighed, committing herself to scouring every book she could when she and Draco made it out. If they made it out.
No. She had to dispel thoughts like that. She'd already figured out that they needed to work together to tear down that blasted wall, and it was likely that the two of them together could overcome whoever stood in their way. She had to believe that.
But just in case, it wouldn't hurt to leave one more note, would it?
Acutely aware of the silence enshrouding her dank cell, Hermione rushed over to the lumpy grey mattress and harshly tore a scrap of the fabric away from the stuffing. Concentrating as hard as she ever had, she wandlessly transfigured the coarse fabric into a single sheet of equally grey paper and a small self-inking quill.
Draco,
If by some miracle you find this, I just want you to know how much I love you. You have become my best friend, my closest confidante, and the love of my life. You have made yourself into a better man, and I take great pride in being your mate. Never forget that I love you, and that I am always with you.
Love forever,
Hermione
Just as she signed the note and stuffed it into the hole in her mattress, still catching her breath from the draining wandless magic, a sharp pain tore through her sternum, radiating through her body all the way down to her toes. Before she could catch it, a mangled cry escaped her lips, and the young brunette collapsed to her knees. She wanted to cry, wanted to sob for Draco, who had been the victim of their captors' Cruciatus far more often than Hermione had, but she couldn't summon the energy to do so. Instead, she fell from her knees onto her side effectively in the fetal position, arms circling her knees and lungs struggling to pull in air. Resisting the urge to vomit, Hermione's hands flew to her forehead to wipe away the sweat-soaked wisps of hair clinging to her skin. The longer the curse wore on, the harder it was for Hermione to resist the urge to pass out, so she chose to save her energy. She gave in to the darkness skirting at the periphery of her vision, not realizing that she was mere inches away from the furiously vibrating brick wall.
Hermione awoke to a loud clang echoing off the walls of her dungeon. That, she thought with a scoff, was probably the only upside to her existence in Malfoy Manor: no one could come or go from the dungeon quietly. Listening carefully to the heavy footfalls, seemingly in no hurry, the Gryffindor brushed herself off and stood shakily, leaning one hand on the stone wall. Curious. It was completely still.
The clunky way this guard walked had already tipped Hermione off that Lucius Malfoy had not decided to pay her another visit. However, when the torches suspended just outside the cell illuminated the ugly mug before her, a shadow of a gasp slipped out.
"Goyle? Gregory Goyle?" she asked before she could help herself. Her eyes narrowed in confusion, forehead wrinkling, as she tried to reconcile the doughy crony that had followed Draco like a shadow with the bulky, angry-looking man glaring at her from beyond the bars.
"What's it to you, Mudblood?" he shot back. Well. He certainly wastes no time.
"I just—"
"It wasn't a real question. Weren't you supposed to be the smart one?" The corner of his mouth flicked up with amusement at his own insult. "Get on over here, then. Boss wants you for something."
Hermione cocked her head to the side, trying to bide her time in the hopes that Draco might get a hand on the brick behind her before she had to face Lucius. "Really? You expect me to just walk over to you? What else, want me to give you a nice hug and sing a song with you?"
Goyle's muddy eyes darkened angrily. "Mudblood bitch! Think you're funny, do you? But you're standing in there, no wand, no protection." As if to prove it, Goyle raised his own wand, hurtling a jinx at Hermione's face. It felt as though a sharp, serrated knife were slicing through her right cheek, just enough that her blood gathered in delicate beads along the cut. She brought a hand up to wipe it away, opening her mouth to shoot out another insult, when a terrifying smirk swept across his face suddenly. "Would be a shame if someone were to lay hands on you, wouldn't it?"
(*****)
The Slytherin stalked forward, opening the door to the cell handily, flashing his teeth with a vicious leer. As much as Hermione was sure that he would be punished if anything were to happen to her beyond Lucius's plans, she couldn't help the single step she took backwards before her back hit the wall. Despite this, she kept her chin high, glaring at Goyle defiantly. He stood at least a foot taller than her, and he was no longer chubby but solid and muscular, undoubtedly capable of and willing to inflict physical pain before resorting to magic.
"The boss won't mind if I have a little fun with you, I'm sure..."
At this, Hermione shuddered slightly, refusing to close her eyes and instead balling her hand into a fist in case she had to fight him off. Her leg tensed as she prepared to use her knee, as her mother had taught her in her youth. But just as Goyle reached a gnarled finger to slide along her jaw, a booming voice echoed through the dank space.
(*****)
"Bring it in, Goyle."
Hermione's eyes widened; this was the first time that any voice had permeated the room, besides the guards who had physically stood before her. Surely this was some charm that Lucius had put in place, and a rather clever one, she admitted to herself begrudgingly.
Goyle seemed just as put off. "Of course now he wants to be strict. Come on, Mudblood, you heard the boss."
Grabbing her roughly by the shoulders, the dark-haired boy growled before he pulled out his wand. Hermione's eyes grew wide, immediately flailing in the taller boy's strong grip, but her fight was futile as he pointed the wand between her eyes and scowled. "Stupefy."
Seemingly only seconds later, Hermione started forward, still in the grimy clutches of Gregory Goyle. What had been the point of that little show?
"Let go of me, you great oaf! I swear to Godric—" But just as she was finishing the threat, Hermione glanced up at her surroundings. At first glance, it looked to be the same cell as the one Goyle had Stupefied her in, but then the brunette let out a gasp as she recognized not one, but two distinct platinum-blond heads in front of her. It was dark, but from her angle and with the bit of light that glowed at the end of the wand in the man's hand, there was no mistaking Lucius Malfoy where he stood.
The taller, more regal Malfoy stood to her right, eyeing her with an undeniable disgust and resentment, as if she were simply a nuisance that he had to eliminate. But she hardly paid Lucius any mind, because directly in front of her, behind a duplicate set of rusty iron bars, stood her fiancé.
"Draco?" Hermione hated how weak her voice sounded. She wanted to be strong in this moment, to give Draco as much confidence and power as he gave her. She drew herself up, forgetting the weight of Goyle's hands atop her shoulders. If her voice was going to break, her body surely would not.
Her heart immediately swelled at the sight of him. It was him. Not some shadow like the one that had visited her in a dream, not a decoy. It was her Draco, her mate, right in front of her. He sounded tired, undoubtedly as tired as she must have looked, and she couldn't help but notice the dark circles that marred his normally flawless skin. His eyes were duller than she recalled, his hair unkempt and matted with dirt, clothes stained and frayed, but none of that mattered to her. He was alive, and the love that radiated even from his eyes was enough to fill her with a renewed surge of strength and defiance.
Curiously enough, just her proximity to him seemed to actually reinvigorate her muscles and reawaken her nerves. Slowly, as more time passed with them in each other's company, her body began to warm up, as though a current were passing through every cell of her being. She saw it in Draco as much as she felt it in herself, the magic of their Veela bond not necessarily reflecting in his pallid skin but in his eyes, burning with a renewed passion and drive.
"Hermione, love, I—" he began, voice catching in his throat. Tears pricked at her eyes as she heard the exhaustion in his tone. "I know what we have to do. The wa—"
Panic bubbled in her stomach. "I know, Draco, stop! I know!" She looked rapidly between Goyle, who had maneuvered himself to her left, and Lucius, still stoic a few feet away. They couldn't risk their captors catching on to what they could do. Though Lucius had lived and studied Veela magic, there was still a chance he didn't understand its full capabilities. She suspected that he knew quite a lot less than he acted for two reasons: first, he would never have allowed her and Draco to be in the same room if he knew it would start to strengthen them again. Second, and probably more tellingly, Lucius was still trying to save what was left of his pureblood reputation by destroying the bond between them; anyone who had read about Veela magic would know that there was no undoing the spell without fatal consequences.
So why was Lucius still insisting he could?
Before she could let her mind go there, the elder Malfoy spoke, protected by a Voice Masking charm but condescension dripping from every word nonetheless. "How sweet. You can read each other's minds now, can you?" And he let out a laugh, a vile, mirthless sound that made Hermione's skin prickle. "This is nauseating to watch. Now, on your feet, boy. It would be a tragedy if anything were to happen to young Miss Granger here, wouldn't it?" He had taken a clicking step forward with every word, until he was directly in front of Hermione, nearly blocking Draco from view. His wandlight brightened incrementally, and he reached a long, pale finger to stroke Hermione's cheek. With a sick sense of déjà vu, hate for Lucius and Goyle boiling her blood, Hermione jerked her head away from his grasp and fixed the older man with a sharp glare.
He did not smile, nor did she expect him to, but a glimmer of sick amusement sparkled in his dark grey eyes as he took a step back.
As Hermione turned her attention back to Draco, she noticed him slowly bringing himself to his feet. The magic had indeed made her a bit stronger, but it seemed to be taking Draco a little longer to feel the same effects.
"Leave her alone," his clear voice echoed. Gone was that tint of sleeplessness that had colored his tone earlier. Now, it was nothing but anger and contempt for his father. Despite herself, a small smile bloomed on her lips, pride filling her chest at her fiancé's fearlessness. He liked to tease her for her Slytherin tendencies, but he had a bit of Gryffindor in himself yet. "This is between you and me, Father."
Hermione knew Draco was too far to notice, but she saw Lucius's eyes widen just a fraction at Draco's words. No wonder he had still been using a Voice Masking charm—he thought they didn't know who he was! If he had underestimated them so severely, then surely they had more of a chance to get out safely than she had previously thought...
"You're not as daft as I thought, son," Lucius teased before withdrawing the concealment charm on his voice. "And here I thought you were a lost cause."
As much as Hermione wanted to jump in and defend her mate, she knew that this had to be between the two men. It would do her no good to get Lucius to toss her out before she could gather as much information and strength as she could. So she held her tongue, eyes darting furiously between the two blondes in front of her.
"If you underestimated me, that's your own mistake. Now, leave Hermione alone. She has no place in this." And though she knew Lucius would not hear it, Hermione picked up on the faintest trace of possessiveness and love that colored his demand.
"On the contrary, Draco. She is quite literally in the middle of this. How could you, son?" the older man said, not pleading so much as scoffing at his child. "After all I taught you, everything I instilled in you, you disappoint me like this?" It was Hermione's turn to scoff, but if Lucius had heard her, he chose to ignore it. "How could you, my only son, let yourself be caught in the traps of a Mudblood?" he hissed, the malice in his voice poignant.
"You'll kindly refrain from using that word to describe my fiancée," Draco shot back, and Hermione's heart leapt with pride. "You know it's a load of bollocks anyway. You taught me that purebloods were superior, but you knew we weren't purebloods anyway. If I'm not mistaken, it's your lineage that carries Veela blood, isn't it?"
Hermione tried not to laugh at the irony in spite of the imminent danger in the room. Lucius, however, was not as amused. "Veela are magical beings, much like wizards are. The noble house of Malfoy has been one of strength and magical power for generations. She's nothing but a Muggle who managed to steal magic on a fluke. Purebloods—"
"Are humans, just the way that Muggles are." Draco cut him off. And none too soon, or Hermione would have thrown caution to the wind and taken a swing at Lucius anyway. As it were, she had to hold herself back from flinging herself at Draco, nearly crying as he spoke words that, just a few months ago, she never would have expected him to utter. "Your crony there, Goyle? He's a pureblood, and he doesn't have two brain cells to rub together." At this, Goyle's grip on Hermione's shoulders tightened incrementally. She tried not to wince in pain.
"The same could be said for any of your pathetic Death Eater friends," Draco continued. "Hermione may be a Muggle-born, but she is the smartest witch this world has ever seen. She was instrumental in taking down one of the most evil wizards to ever live, who was a half-blood, I might add. Your pathetic blood purity bullshit has no place in this world."
As Draco finished, Hermione felt her smile widening at his words, realizing both that her mate had changed so much from the hateful boy he once was, and that they both now possessed a new wave of energy they hadn't felt since that afternoon in Hogsmeade, what felt like years ago. The realization only made her more anxious for what was surely to come.
She had almost forgotten Lucius, standing only feet away, scowling at his son as though he wanted nothing more than to hex him until he was unconscious. And he was perfectly capable of doing that. Instead, though, he opened his mouth to spit a response. "You think you're smart, do you, boy? Very well. I thought bringing your Mudblood in would keep you in check, but it seems she's useless for even that. Take her back to her cell, Goyle, and make sure she stays quiet until I'm done here."
A sick taste rose in Hermione's throat as her wide eyes darted back to Draco's face. Until I'm done here, Lucius had said—so this was it. This was the culmination of the abduction, the final step in Lucius's plot to destroy their relationship. It was now or never: they would either break themselves out of the man's clutches or fail to free themselves. But Hermione Granger was not a failure, and she would not succumb so easily to a madman's wishes.
"It'll be alright, Hermione!" she heard Draco call as Goyle yanked her shoulders and shoved her towards the door. The dark-haired wizard flung the door open and pushed her through it, just as Draco's voice shouted, "Don't w—"
But the rest of his warning was cut off by the loud slam of the metal as she was cut off from her mate once again.
"Move it along, Mudblood. If you hurry, maybe I can actually have some fun this time," Goyle hissed in her ear, leaning in close behind her and letting his hands wander down her back before giving her another harsh shove. Her footsteps echoed off the stone floors, while Goyle's were muffled by the heavy shoes he wore. The hallway carried the same heavy, dank air as the cells did. Clearly, whoever had designed the dungeon had not been one for creativity.
Trying hard to mask the disgust in her voice, Hermione turned her head and glared sharply at the Slytherin behind her. "If you like the way that you look, Goyle, you'll move your hands off of me. Now."
"Or what?" he shot back, though he hadn't quite controlled the fear that was spelled across his face. "You haven't got a wand, and you hardly reach my shoulders. You think I'm afraid of you?"
She smirked. "Actually, yes, I do."
He grunted, clearly not knowing what to say next. "Just move, Mudblood. This way," he growled, pulling her to the right, and right again, before they reached another identical cell door. Hermione knew what Goyle was likely to try, but she had just one priority as she walked begrudgingly back into the room.
Get to the wall.
(*****)
Just as she made for the back of her cell, Goyle grabbed her wrist forcefully. "And just where do you think you're going so soon?" he hissed, but his grip loosened slightly, and so Hermione seized the opportunity to wrench herself out of his grasp. She took a few steps toward the back of the cell before he recovered, one of his meaty hands landing in her hair and yanking her backwards. She cried out in pain, but managed to keep her balance as he tugged at her knotted curls once again.
"Where are you running? There's nowhere for you to go, Mudblood." His hand left her scalp, settling instead on her biceps, squeezing her in his strong grasp.
"Let go of me, Goyle, or so help me—"
"You and I both know there's nothing you can do—OW! You bitch!"
She had managed to draw her knee up sharply, just the way her mother had taught her.
(*****)
As Goyle hunched over, covering his crotch with his hands and howling in agony, Hermione ran desperately towards the wall. If her estimates were right, she only had a few seconds before the dark-haired wizard recovered, and he would undoubtedly not hesitate to hurt her this time. Her small fingers traced the stone, vibrating slowly, then faster as she neared the middle.
Come on, Draco, touch it.
"I'll get you for that one, Mudblood!" Goyle yelled, and Hermione turned around sharply. She managed to keep one hand on the stone, but she saw the fury and desperation in Goyle's eyes as he drew himself shakily to his feet. "You're in for it, bitch!"
But before Goyle could take a single step toward her, Hermione felt a shock surge through her skin, starting from where her fingers rested against the cold stone wall. A split second later, the structure exploded, pieces of jagged stone somehow flying around her body and across the musty dungeon.
The brunette watched with a sick sense of delight as one shard collided with Goyle's midsection, sending him hurtling through the air and landing with a dull thud near the door. Convinced that he was unconscious, by the limp set of his fingers and loll of his head, Hermione spun around and felt her heart soar at the sight in front of her.
Draco was facing the other way, watching as even more bricks rocketed past him and collided with the wall outside the cell. She hardly noticed Lucius using his wand to deflect the projectiles, but some part of her brain registered his cry of pain as one landed squarely on his foot. All she could see, though, was her mate, her fiancé, finally within arm's reach.
Hesitantly, she stuck one hand out to brush against his shoulder. Rather than be startled by the contact, as Hermione expected, Draco leaned into it for a second before turning on the spot and pulling her into his arms.
A sob of joy escaped her lips, and Hermione flung her own arms around his tall frame and clenched her eyes shut, allowing herself a moment of contentment before they had to return to the task at hand. She could feel him turning her slowly to the right as he held her, and she opened her eyes slowly to re-orient herself in the room. She was almost fully turned now, facing Goyle once again.
"Do you see him?" Draco whispered inconspicuously, not relenting any of the tightness with which he held her.
Hermione's eyes narrowed, scanning the rubble, before spotting one grubby hand and a booted foot. "Yes," she breathed, mind racing, searching for the slim oak wand Goyle had pointed at her earlier.
"Good. Good, Hermione. Now, when I let you go, you run for that wand. Don't stop until you have it in your hands. I'll hold Lucius off until you can back me up. Alright?"
"But you don't have—"
"Don't worry about me, lioness." Hermione's heart sang at the familiar pet name. "I'm handy enough with wandless magic to compete for a moment. Or have you already forgotten?" The brunette didn't dare pull back, but she could hear the smirk in her Slytherin's voice. She tightened her hold on him marginally, not wanting to let go, not knowing how this precarious situation would end. But she had faith that, between the two of them, they could put up one hell of a fight.
"Ready, love?"
"I love you," she whispered, suddenly needing to say the words. "I'm ready. I love you."
"I love you," he breathed, dropping a feather-light kiss to her temple before dropping his arms. "Now!"
She missed his touch instantly, a chill settling into her bones at the absence of his warm body. But there was no time to wait—she had to move, or they could both very well die in this musty cellar.
Hermione took off at a sprint, hardly sparing a glance at the unconscious Goyle as she dodged the large fractured cinderblocks that littered the floor. As she ran, she heard the unmistakable whoosh of magic flying through the air, knowing without looking that Draco and Lucius had come to magical blows. Darting around an especially jagged chunk of brick, she finally spied the long wand resting just past Goyle's fingertips. She fell to her knees as she seized it frantically, not feeling the usual connection that she did with her own wand but controlling it just the same. Hermione pointed it at Goyle as a precaution, casting a quick Petrificus Totalus for good measure, before turning back to her mate and his father.
"You sad, sick boy. You've disgraced your family, your heritage, your name. And for what?" Lucius's voice rung out over the din of their duel, contempt oozing from every word.
"Hermione is a million times the witch you could ever hope to be, and I am ashamed to share a name with you." Draco's voice was slightly weaker, not as loud, but his words were poignant anyhow. Hermione bit back tears and swallowed her immense hate for Lucius as she crept closer to the center of the room, eyeing the elder Malfoy warily. He still hadn't spotted her, which meant he still didn't know she had a wand.
"This is child's play. On your knees, boy, and I will spare you the full scope of my magic." The underlying threat was clear: get down, or I will not hold back any longer.
"Let us leave, and I won't call the Aurors to send you to Azkaban," Draco countered, voice shaking but still somehow carrying an air of mockery.
"Insolent child. Expulso!" Lucius yelled, and Draco hardly had time to throw up a Shield charm to avoid the curse.
"I don't want to hurt you, Lucius," Draco called, eyes narrowed. "Drop your wand!"
"Reducto!" Lucius tried again, and this time Draco could only duck behind a particularly large piece of the wall.
Hermione's jaw was clenched tight, torn between defending her mate and keeping herself hidden. She sunk closer to the floor, taking a few more bold steps forward until she had a clear line of fire at Lucius. She raised Goyle's wand and pointed it at the man's pointed face, but before she could utter any incantation, the older man's eyes went inexplicably dark.
"If you won't give this up, son, you're a lost cause. I should have seen it sooner," he said, the air suddenly still. Hermione didn't dare breathe. "I suppose I'll just have to get rid of you both."
Time seemed to stand still as Hermione watched Draco slowly rise from his place behind the rubble, just as Lucius raised his wand and aimed it directly between his son's eyes. Her heart stopped beating and she felt all the blood drain from her face, a small cry escaping her lips just as Lucius cast his curse.
"Avada Kedavra."
Author's note: Ahh! Some action! However will this end? I mean, I know, but I'm dying (ha-ha) to hear what you all think! I hope to have the next chapter for you all next week. Special thanks to decadenceofmysoul and TinySlippers for reviewing Chapter 28, and CalliePAD and ZillahLily for the new reviews! Those do put a smile on my face. Thanks again, see you soon!
xx entirelymyown
