A/N: Hey guys. I had hit a bit of writer's block with this one, but I got through it. It's going to be rough ride for Team Dramione this chapter and the next. But hang in there. Good things come to those who wait. Maybe. No, I'm serious, it will get better. I tried something different this chapter, breaking up the POV with the across line, let me know if you like it, I will use it from now on if you do. Please review/give feedback, and thank you for all the new follows/favorites. All mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

True Love's Locket

Chapter 35- Sealed In Magic

"We have to leave immediately!"

Draco shouted against the icy bitter air. With ease or pure panic of adrenaline in his veins, he yanked Hermione to her feet. Her chestnut curls whipped around in the cold as she adjusted the green sheet around her body, giving her modesty in the outside world. Draco shivered, both in sheer nakedness and the lack of protection that neither of them had. His wand gone. Her wand…back in his bedroom. He grabbed her hand, pulling her into a slippery run over the snowy cobblestone drive.

"We have to run past the two gargoyles at the end of the drive!" he yelled over his shoulder. The blaring alarm returned at their movement. Cold air burned down his windpipe, choking on whether or not to breathe or to speak. "It was there last summer, when my mother and I left."

Gray eyes narrowed, focusing on the elongated distance, to the beginning of the accursed place. The very beginning of the drive, and the means of their escape. Or the welcoming of the eventual ends. Draco coughed, swallowing the thought and tried to cast it from his mind. Bare feet slapped against cobblestone. The sting trailed up his legs, putting aches in places unseen. He could hear laughter, the sinister cackling of his aunt's glee. Reminding him how he learned occlumency and the counterpart legilmecy, that pain made him learn quickly enough.

Pain boiled to his throat, he sank to his knees, and bile met the cobblestones from his stomach. His arm burned. His body was numb. Draco squinted through, measuring that they were halfway. Halfway there to freedom. To salvation. To safety. Close enough to see a gargoyle missing an ear, one that he did shot off the summer after second year. He had blamed a house elf.

Hands pulled at him. Hermione's mouth moved, Draco could hear nothing but the laughter and the alarm surrounding them. Her brown eyes begged him to move, panic carried in their depths as they flickered from him to behind them, and back to him again. His teeth chattered together. He aimlessly pawed at his left hand, fighting the shivers that tortured his naked skin. Draco sighed when his family ring came off of his finger.

"Hermione."

"Get up, Draco!" They're getting closer! We need to run!"

Draco shook his head. "Can't."

"You can!" argued Hermione. Her brown eyes hardened at him, narrowing with determination. She pulled at his shoulders. "You just need to get up!"

He grabbed one of her hands on his shoulder. Draco found a finger of her hand, slamming the ring carrying his family crest on her. Her hand pulled away from him, her voice snapping, "What are you doing? We have no time for this!"

He met her brown eyes. "I know. That is why you're wearing it. The ring is a portkey, it will take you to any Malfoy by name. All you have to do is stated the name into the ring. It will take you there."

"Why are you telling me this?" Then brown eyes lit up in understanding, and stubbornness radiated back at him. "You're mad if you think I'm leaving without you! You're coming with me, or I'm staying here!"

"You don't understand-"

"Magic or not, I'm not leaving you!"

Draco scoffed. "You don't understand! The ring can only take one-the wearer." With that, Draco snatched Hermione's hand again, his heart drummed. Fear pounded in his veins. He trailed over her the curve of her face, the set frown of her lips, and her eyes, and the tenderness behind them. Red flashed by them, cracking into the cobblestone, sending scattered stone flying into pieces.

He wanted to pull her in, kiss her fears away like he had done before. Instead, he pressed his cold lips to the top of her hands. His eyes met hers, unknowing if this would be the last time he would ever see her. Then he whispered into the ring, his lips brushing up against green stone, "Narcissa Malfoy."

"Draco! No!"

"DRACO!"

Hermione shouted. Panic set in as he disappeared within a shower of white and red. Her voice faded into the air. Instead of the cobblestone path beneath her feet, it was woodland. The Shrieking Shack was several feet away, surrounded by the barren trees blanketed in white.

"Damn it!" she cursed, screaming aloud for no one. To put the Shrieking Shacks' name to true use. Fear. Panic. Everything fell on her weary, frozen body. She had to get him, bring him back, and show him that she didn't leave him. That she never would. Hermione pulled the bed sheet tighter to her body. She brought her left hand to her lips, adorned with Draco's ring.

"Draco…"

"Hermione?"

She flinched from the contrast of a warm hand on her shoulder. Hermione glanced up from her knees, meeting familiar eyes. Her head grew light. Fuzzy. Then black.

Blinking foggily, Hermione buried into the boiling warmth. Then a draft of familiar, close to heart scent drifted in the air. She pulled her arm from her face. Hermione flushed, knowing that she could smell Draco's cologne on her skin.

Rattling, and approaching footfalls encouraged her to sit up quickly. Dizziness clouded over her head, Hermione groaned. Something pulled at the covers on her lap, pulling them over her shoulder. She blinked tiredly, chasing the traces of fog away. Her eyes landed on Mrs. Malfoy, and inside the new starry pattern of living room in the Shrieking Shack.

Disappointment settled into her stomach, along with a newfound panic. That the eyes that she had seen in the snow were not Draco's but his mother's. Hermione jumped to her feet. She pulled the blankets to cover up her skin.

"Draco's in danger! We have to help him!"

The older witch poured tea in one cup as she asked, "What do you mean 'Draco's in danger? I've been expecting both of you this afternoon."

"Draco is home. At Malfoy manor. The thing on his arm brought both of us there-" Hermione help up her hand, showing the Malfoy crest ring to the pale-stricken witch- "He sent me off before I could even try taking him with me! He's there, alone! Who knows what they'll do to him!"

The porcelain kettle rattled within the older witch's grip. It clinked together in soft chimes before imploding on the carpeted floor in pieces. The lavender soaked into the rug. Hermione knelt down, helping Mrs. Malfoy pick up the shattered remains.

"He's home?"

Hermione nodded, and watched as the older witch's face hardened, more so the delicate porcelain pieces. Brown eyes followed as Mrs. Malfoy rose to her feet, shoulders steady. Almost like steel, whereas Hermione could see the true strength, between mother and son. That Draco was like his father in so many ways, but Draco's strength was from his mother.

"There are clothes for you in Draco's bedroom, upstairs to the right of the landing, get dressed while I contact The Order," stated Mrs. Malfoy.

The younger witch nodded, clamoring to her feet. "Do you think they can help? Malfoy Manor is-"

"They will have no other choice," answered Mrs. Malfoy sternly. Her tone was powerful, commanding, and Hermione could see a glimmer of the woman she was when she was standing on You-Know-Who side. Being weak in any way would prove deadly. Hermione shuffled away, venturing upstairs to the bedroom to the right. As Draco's mother promised. Female clothes rested on top of bedspread which was slightly dusty from the lack of someone sleeping in it. The clothes were an older style than she would naturally wear. At this time, the black blouse, paired with a long faded black skirt was clothing. Hermione was thankful to see them. Eagerly, she pulled the articles over her bare skin. Her brown eyes froze when pulling her chestnut curls from underneath the starched collar.

On his bookshelf, there was a picture. One that flashed between a younger Mrs. Malfoy and Draco. The younger Draco in a picture smiled at her before gliding away on his broomstick. Hermione watched the picture, her heart drummed, promising that they would save him. That they had to, no matter what.

Alarm bells rang, blared in his ears. Draco groaned, wishing that the pounding in his ears were quieter. He felt warmth on his face, the softness of whispers when his mind finally silenced the noise in his head. He rubbed his eyes-then stilled-when a voice that he has known since birth echoed around him. "Are fully recovered, Draco?"

Draco's eyes bolted open, meeting his father's eyes hovering over him. Sunlight dazzled inside through the bay windows of the giant room, holding the table where they all gathered. Draco shivered from those , his head grew miraculously better. Probably because he didn't care to die right now, and he had rather hoped that his chilly apparition was a dream. The funny thing about hope, it could die over and over again. Draco was certain that he would meet death, he just wondered who would deliver it.

The bang of his father's cane to the dark polished floor echoed immediately Draco felt smaller, shaky hands pushing him to stand from the floor. Something breezed by his leg, earning a painful cry from the house elf aiding him.

"Do not push the Malfoy heir, house elf! Unless you want another thrashing with my cane."

The pitiful creature let out a fearful squeak, scampering away once Draco remained balanced on his feet. His stomach turned, soured from the entertained expression on his father's face. There was a sense of relief. His father hadn't changed when Draco left with his mother for the protection of The Order. His father was still cruel, arrogant, and foolish. Draco could handle that.

Eventually he would be able to sneak away after a while, his father gave him the tools as a Malfoy to do so. He would have to placate his father, say what he would want to hear. Do what he was told. And the most difficult part, be who he was before. A self-centered, pureblooded arse. He could do it by following example, just as he had done all of his life.

His soured expression turned smug, not the playful like he had been using all these carefree months. But hateful. The old mask felt disgusting, it was appalling on his skin. Draco straightened his shoulders as his father turned to him, the older wizard's mouth open as if he were going to say something. But stopped when rhythmic clinking echoed through the open door, leading into the grand hallway. His heart drummed again, cursing the owner of the familiar stomps. There was a shout, and then painful small cries followed. Draco did not have know the curse aloud; he could tell what it was from the shrieks. His body ached from experience, even if it was long ago.

The shrieks faded into silence. Draco bit the inside of his mouth when his aunt Bellatrix entered into the grand room while a content grin plastered on her face. Then she frowned when her eyes landed on him, and flicked to his father. It was only with luck that Draco's stomach didn't fall to the floor through his backside. He even managed to clear his throat and ask, "Why am I here? What happened?"

His father extended his hand, clapping his shoulder with a prideful grin. "We summoned-"

With a scoff, Bellatrix interrupted, "I did the summoning, Lucius. Not all of this plan is yours to take credit for when the Dark Lord awakens."

Exasperation crossed over his father's face. "Yes, Bellatrix. I'm aware."

Then the older Malfoy turned back to Draco. "I see that you are freed from your punishment, only a true Malfoy would be able to accomplish that without magic to aid them."

To say Draco was confused would be a massive understatement. His emotions whirled faster than he could keep track of them. The locket was a punishment, something to be ashamed of. Something to make him realize that the side that his father stands on is the one that he was supposed to be on. It was his father's way to convince him that he needed to do the Dark Lord's bidding, as he did with the castle. Punishing him for not doing completing his mission, for not listening to his father, for taking his mother away with him.

"Removing the locket is something to be celebrated?" Draco asked carefully. "I thought it was a…."

"Indeed, you have proven worthy to the Dark Lord once more. You and your love can create more followers. You can open the school, please the Dark Lord, bring pride to the Malfoy name, and be a part of the new world."

Draco scratched his arm, nails dug into the black mark on his arm. "Were there others where you found me?"

"Were we expecting another with you?" asked the older Malfoy. Draco shook his head.

"I thought we would expecting more of us," Draco answered, motioning to the empty room around them. "It seem like a massive expectation for only three-"

"More of us will be arriving tomorrow."

"Doesn't matter how many Death Eaters-," snapped his aunt Bellatrix. Her heels clapped against the floor. Her darkened robes whipped around her ankles as she stalked towards them. Draco's hands balled into fists at his side while darkened eyes glared at him.

"-As long as someone finishes what you were ordered to do. Your mission was a gift, an opportunity for him. To prove your loyalty. Because of your weakness, Dumbledore still lives. Failing the Dark Lord again will not end with you wearing some cursed trinket."

Draco ignored the drumming in his chest. "If the Dark Lord was truly displeased, all of us in this room know of the extent of his power. I, for one, do not plan to be on that side of his wand." He met her eyes, holding the blank gaze. "My lesson was learned."

"See that it was, Nephew."

Oblivious to the growing tension, the older Malfoy announced, "Celebration seems in order, now that you have come to your senses and returned home. If only your mother were here, our reunion would be complete."

Mentally, Draco thanked Merlin and whomever out there that his mother was safe. That Hermione was safe. A long hum from his father drew Draco's attention back to the room, and the dangers in it. His father almost looked as if he was going to add more. Then he cleared his throat; long silver hair draped over from his shoulders to his back.

"Buttons!" he bellowed. The distain bounced throughout the room, echoed down the hall. The same house elf that had helped Draco to his feet trembled through the open door way. Her hands pulled at the long, dirty sleeve of her clothes. The blouse dragged across the ground as she shuffled to his father.

"Yes, master?"

Her voice was nothing but a squeak, something easily if not spoken in a completely silent room. Draco schooled his face when big eyes glanced up to the older Malfoy before snapping down to the ground. He pitied before the cane met the back of her head, and more so, when the tiny voice yelped in surprise. Draco wasn't surprised. After all, he had been his father's son. He had been the one to punish the house elf that he blamed the broken garyole on. Crabbe and Goyle had held it still.

"Don't look at me, house elf," spat the older wizard. "Fetch the firewhiskey, three goblets as well!"

The house elf disappeared with a snap of her thin fingers, and returned just as quickly through the open door. A goblet of firewhiskey was in Draco's hand before he could blink. Another goblet tapped against his as his father declared, "To future victory!"

Before Draco could take a sip, a spray of liquid flew from the air, dripping from his father's chin. Bellatrix laughed from one of the chairs at the long table, her goblet of firewhiskey ignored. The master of the Malfoy turned from the laughing woman to the cringing house elf, wishing to be anywhere but under her master's wrath.

"I asked for firewhiskey, what is this vile concoction? Are you trying to poison your master?"

Big eyes glanced over to Draco, making him wonder if his acting was that obvious.

The house elf turned away, answering his father. "It is firewhiskey, master."

"Where from?"

"The kitchen."

"I wanted firewhiskey from my study!"

"But master-"

"How dare you argue with me!"

The cane flew down again. Draco bit the inside of his cheek. Half moon imprints dug into his palm as he watched his father beat the house elf for nothing. It was the fifth strike when Draco couldn't do it anymore; he blinked slowly. Trying to the image out his head. Carefully, void of any emotion, Draco spoke, "If you kill it father, then you will have nothing to wait upon you later."

Older gray eyes glared at the whimpering creature as it stood. "Good point, Draco. Good help is difficult to come by these days. Go do something that will please me, and I'll get my own firewhiskey. I can't have you mess up again."

The house elf bowed, and with a snap, fell out of sight. Draco watched as his father disappeared from the room when he rounded the corner. Leaving him alone with his aunt.

His face was stoic, the picture of classic boredom. Draco glanced around the barren room. Nothing has changed since their departure. Still empty, still cold. "You look different, Nephew."

Gray eyes turned towards his aunt. He followed the dark-haired witch with his eyes, making a note of the crooked wand twisting in her fingers.

"It could be the clothing," he retorted smugly. "I believe I was in a state of undress when you summoned me."

"Your father dressed you in his clothes since yours are…relocated at the moment."

"Then perhaps I look more like my father then I thought. How tragic."

The witch clicked at him, a frown etched on her face. "Don't be sarcastic, Draco."

Draco huffed. He shrugged his shoulders.

"I was simply offering a reasoning behind my 'so-called' different appearance. If you ever discover how I look different, please let me know. A Malfoy cannot walk around 'looking different' in the Malfoy home."

"This Manor does not belong to the Malfoy name anymore. It belongs to the Dark Lord."

Nodding, Draco offered, "Of course. The Dark Lord rules all. Where would he be exactly? It would nice to know if I have his forgiveness from the Dark Lord himself."

"The Dark Lord forgives those who prove worthy. He does not waste time with those who failed him." Draco watched his aunt as she began circling around him. Her wand flicked between her fingers, almost wanting something. Or waiting. The back of his head tingled as his aunt continued, "I will discover why you are different."

"I realize that, Aunt Bellatrix-" Draco stated with a smug grin. The tingling in the back of his head stopped. "-And you're welcomed too, but you should know of my abilities. You taught me everything I know."

A grin bloomed over his aunt's face. Her wand waved at him. "I did not teach you everything I know. Not even close."

Draco opened his mouth, readying a threat that was equal magnitude to his aunt's hidden words. To promise the same injuries. The same outcome. If his aunt ever found out how he was different; he would have to protect her. The difference being that he was in love with someone he was morphed to hate at one point in his life. There was lightness to his shoulders; in the way he carried himself. That he was no longer being squashed by the hatred. If anyone harmed the people he loves, there would be more than pain for them.

Deeper in the Manor, there was a crash of sounding of shattered glass, an enraged curse, then the bellowing of his father's voice, "DRACO MALFOY!"

The grin on his aunt's face morphed into a wide smile. One that sent fear trickling down his spine, slithering slowly, almost like a snake following its target. There were only a few times in his life that he had hear his father's voice like that. None of those times were happy endings. Draco ached to have his wand in his hand again.

Hermione descended down the stairs two at a time, pulling at the uncomfortable collar of the black blouse. She entered into the living room, as wisps of gray disappeared. Her brown eyes took in the set gray coloring of the older witch, with a defeated expression. Easily, Hermione added two and two together.

"The Order doesn't have a plan, do they?" Hermione asked gently.

She sat on the loveseat across from Mrs. Malfoy, gingerly she place her hands over the older witch's. Hermione waited for the answer, an explanation with dread and worry. Mrs. Malfoy's wand rolled from the loveseat, and fell to the floor with a light thump. Then the woman sighed.

"According to Severus, Death Eaters are expected tomorrow. He is not aware what time they will arrive, or when they will leave. Or if they ever will."

"If they ever will?" Hermione repeated incredulously, exhaling a baited breath. "The Death Eaters can't just stay there, it's impossible!"

"There are plenty of rooms."

Hermione scoffed. "But it's so obvious!"

The older witch shrugged. "No one would dare walk into the lion's den. Not even the Ministry of Magic."

Bolting to her feet, Hermione paced wildly. Shaking her head as she argued. "That's unacceptable! The students haven't returned to Hogwarts yet-Professor Snape could go in there, and save him!"

The older woman shook her head. "Albus said it would be too great of a risk to Severus's cover. Apparently, we have to wait from other members of The Order. Then they will have to figure it out from there. I'm still in hiding, they will not allow me to-"

"Screw The Order!" snarled Hermione, then she shook her head, scoffing, "Waiting?!""

The carpeted floor hid her pounding footsteps. Her harsh footsteps etched a pattern in the expensive rug. "We are expected to wait while Draco is in danger? He failed You-Know-Who by refusing to kill Dumbledore! He turned to The Order for protection, he betrayed his father, and he could be…"

Her heart ached; she exhaled shakily. Not even wanting to think what Draco could be. Gray. Lifeless. Like everyone who has died this past year. Her thoughts flashed to the little Hufflepuff student, who had lost her parents. Everyone who had died would be frozen in time, never to see if the world got better. Draco could become nothing but a photograph. Nothing but a memory.

"He's your only child, and he could be..."

"Do not finish your sentence, Mrs. Granger," stated the older witch.

Hermione turned to Mrs. Malfoy, glancing at the hardened face, down to the shaky hands. "If waiting is all we can do, then we must. Am I happy with it? Absolutely not, Draco is my son, and you cannot begin to fathom to know how I feel. He stepped into the role of my protector when it wasn't his place, duty, or need. His father failed us, and I failed Draco. It is my fault he is there. I did not protect him as I should have."

Abruptly, Mrs. Malfoy stood. "If you need me, I will be in the kitchen."

When she was alone in the living room, Hermione began pacing again. She was angry, frustrated, disgusted with The Order. Dumbledore offered Draco a second chance, and now that he was a different person, The Order decided that he wasn't worth anything. More than anything, she was angry with herself for leaving him. Cursing Draco for whispering her away. The kitchen clattered with racket. Hermione paused then.

Her eyes landed on the floor. Fixated on the fallen wand, sitting on the carpet innocently waiting. Just as she was. Hope bloomed in her chest. Her mind ticked, formulating a plan that would make Harry proud.

Draco straightened his shoulders, ignoring the trepidation in his throat. He struggled not to shrink down like a small child. Not like he use to do when he was a child and somehow displeased his father. Displeasure poured from his father when the older Malfoy stalked into the room, with his ink colored robe whipping behind him. Then paused to growl out, "Come with me."

Shooting one last glance at his aunt, who looked giddy now from his father's swift personality change, Draco walked towards his father. When he stood shoulder to shoulder with the taller Malfoy, the serpent cane clattered to the floor. Hands grabbed the back of his neck, fingers dug into his pulse. Sharp nails cut into his skin as his father yanked him through the doorway, down the hall, and into the study. With a shove from his father, Draco fell to knees, landing on the glass shards that decorated the study. Before he could recover, his father was on him again. Ripping from the floor with the back of his head. Draco hissed when he was shoved against, the side of face colliding with the enchanted linage of the Malfoy family tree.

"Why is she there?" His father spat. Draco flinched against the sudden wetness, and the increased viciousness, the pure rage that possessed his father.

"Who?" Draco bit out.

His face pulled away from the wall, but only to meet it again with an unyielding thump. Draco tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as his father ground his face into the wall. Each movement harder than the next as his father spoke.

"Why is that Mudblood tainting our pure family tree?"

Confusion whirled in his mind. There were a handful of people with different kinds of blood that he knew. Even fewer people to make his father foam at mouth, sounding like Draco committed a crime against humanity itself. Something in his gut knew. There was no other possibility. And it had to be a mistake.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he shouted back. Draco groaned aloud as a sharp grip buried into his neck, yanking him away from the wall to face it. Standing next to his father, Draco followed to where the older wizard pointed. Her picture on the wall. Her name written in silver ink. A silver line between his picture and hers, joining them together.

His heart pounded with fear. Confusion. Disbelief. Deeper down, disappointment. Knowing that now he could never have his father's acceptance. And he would never become something other than failure in his father's eyes. He was failure in so many ways. That he failed being someone that his father wanted him to be, no matter sick it was. He failed to be a Malfoy, and now, she somehow magically carried his accursed name. He lets down everyone that he cares for.

The study was quiet, his father's rapid breathing settled as Draco stared at that silver line. "How…"

Heaviness clapped over his shoulder. "You're married to that-" his father paused like he was trying to spit out the filthy word and couldn't, instead he added, "-you won't be if she's dead."

Before he realized, Draco moved. He held his father's wand, shaking in his hand as he pointed it at his father. Torn between his sick desire to please his father from childhood, and to protect Hermione. Flashes of last night played in his head. Her voice. Touch. Her eyes from last night, the worry in them from this morning before he sent her away. Draco pointed the wand; steady, silver molten eyes met his father's.

"I can't allow you to do that."

Hermione snatched Mrs. Malfoy's wand from the table. Hating how heavily the wand felt in her hand. Under her breath, she muttered the summoning spell for her wand, and for the small bit of potion she had stored away in secret from Harry and Ron.

Her eyes roamed over the room, looking for a long hair while he things came to her. With luck, she did find a strand, and plucked it from the loveseat. Hermione sighed. Rambling under breath, wondering if this was the right thing to do. "If it's too dangerous for The Order, then I'll become someone not a part of it."

A breeze came from fireplace, her wand and a small vial of polyjuice potion landed at her feet.

Quickly, Hermione tucked her wand away, fixing it into the waistband of the long, faded black skirt. She popped the wax seal, and placed the hair carefully within the potion. The vial bubbled in her hand, changing color, and wafting the scent of lavender and lemongrass.

Hermione stared at the vial in her hand. Then she inhaled, hoping that this would be enough to find Draco, and leave. She swallowed the contents before she could change her mind.

Her body grew slightly taller. Back straightened, no longer hunched from her many hours reading in the library. Her hair changed darker, and became loose waves instead Hermione's known bushy mane. Even the color of her skin changed slightly, from an indoor pale, to a naturally pale. Her body no longer changed, or grew, and her face faintly pained from the change of bone structure, she brought the ring to her lips.

"Draco Malfoy."

Then Hermione was gone.

Pain ripped a scream from Draco's throat. He writhed on the floor, the curse more painful than he remembered. It was raw pain from the two, or perhaps now three sessions of this new punishment, or entertainment. Draco bit his tongue, drawing blood again rather than giving his aunt the satisfaction of his pain. She already had the satisfaction of catching him off guard. After he had snatched his father's wand, she had stunned him from the open door. He blacked out then.

Somehow, they had returned to the grand room again. Draco was too numb to even care. Any curiosity stopped when his aunt began session five. He coughed on blood, choking back a scream. Wishing it would stop.

Sweat dripped from his hair, turning silver in ruined blond. His aunt stopped. Her cackled laughter stopped as well. Draco would have breathed, if everything hadn't burned, ached, or felt like it would have drained the life from him. He surrendered. Staring at the high ceiling, feeling a part of him wanting to go. Begging for mercy.

He found his father, spewing about his mistakes. How he was diseased. Disgusting for sullying the Malfoy name.

"You're careless, Draco! Haven't changed to be worthy of the Dark Lord! You tainted us! Our family name is now nothing because of you!"

"It's your fault-," Draco huffed to ceiling, finding enough strength to speak. Or just not giving a damn. His words echoed, earsplitting in the quiet room. "You sullied your own name. You son of a-"

He was screaming before he could finish. His nails dug into the floor, trying to grasp onto anything. Through his own noise, Draco heard his aunt, taunting him. "We should bring Potter's mudblood here. Or is she yours now, Draco? We should do the same to her, see long she lasts."

"NO!"

Draco pushed from the floor, slapping the wand from his aunt's hand. Her boot went into his gut instead. On all his hands and knees, Draco relearned how to breathe. Blood dripped from his mouth, dripping like rain on floor. The redness of his blood hidden by darkness of this house. His father offered nothing but words.

"Malfoys are pure blooded, it's time you understand that lesson."

He spat on the floor, and laughter in the form of scoff escaped from his lips, from deep down in his gut. His silver eyes stared at the stain that he created. The stain of puddled blood on the floor. Was that all he was? A stain on the Malfoy name? Or something else? That feeling absolutely numb, probably closer to death than he wanted to admit brought him to great clarity.

"I thought that I understood that lesson all my life," he murmured. "Now, I've realized that nothing good comes from being a Malfoy. You should know that too."

The pain returned over his body when his aunt's voice echoed in the room. Draco welcomed it. Any fight that he had was gone. He pulled into himself. Cackling echoed throughout the walls. Not at all the last thing he wanted to hear. He didn't wonder if he was going to die anymore. It was a matter of when. His death...it seemed a bit extreme, but to others, so was his failure. So was his traitorous ways.

A loud bang shook the walls. Echoing in the giant room, silencing everything. Two sets of eyes stared at the woman in the doorway. Hermione stared at Draco, unmoving in the middle of the floor.

"Leave Draco alone."

She swallowed her fear, shoving it deep down when Lucius Malfoy began walking towards her. Hermione grasped Mrs. Malfoy's wand tighter, juggling the possibility of apologizing to the older witch if she broke it. She just hoped that her plan left Draco and herself alive, and well. She hoped that the polyjuice potion was enough. With a drumming heartbeat, Hermione stepped into the lion's den.

A/N: Please review/give feedback. Update will be next month.