I literally cannot believe you guys are still here after that last chapter
Uhhh
Yeah when Hot Tom comes into the picture, you may have issues, my brethren
TRIGGER WARNING: Torture via crucio.
Counting the Stars
Chapter Twenty
The Thousand Year Wish - Mariam Abounnasr, Roxas - Moises Nieto, and Seymour's Theme - Nobuo Uematsu
O
Hermione woke on the bottommost step of the staircase.
She had curled up to sleep there on the stone, shivering in the cold air until she drifted into a horrid, light doze. She woke on and off for hours, her fear eclipsing her exhaustion.
It had been a long week and an even longer day yesterday.
The moment she opened her eyes for the umpteenth time to see that the morning light was now peeking in through the windows, she felt her heart sink.
The Dark Lord would be here soon.
She pushed herself into an upright position, blinking against how tired she was. She didn't know what he would have in store for her, but she wished she could have gotten at least one night's worth of slumber.
But she supposed she'd ruined that for herself with her little meltdown in Draco's room last night.
She flushed with heat as the memories of everything they'd done last night came rushing back to the forefront of her mind. She closed her eyes, struggling to calm her breathing.
What had she been thinking?
There were no words for how mortified she was for allowing herself to get so angry, so emotional that she provoked Draco and pushed him to those lengths. She didn't even feel like herself anymore. When she imagined herself doing those things to him, it felt like a completely different person's memories.
She didn't want to think about the way her body had reacted. She didn't want to think about the sounds she'd made and the things that had left her mouth. She was not a hateful person, and yet she truly had hated Draco in those moments. She blamed him for Carrow's death, for putting her in that position.
But when she thought about it, she knew deep down that she did not entirely regret what she'd done. She stood by the words she'd said. She stood by the fact that she believed he'd lied to her. She regretted losing control with him and almost letting herself think she wanted him, but she did not regret pushing him to the edge. If she hadn't, she never would have got her answers and found out that her suspicions were correct about him.
After all, what reason would Draco Malfoy have to save Hermione Granger from the streets of Paris, offer her sanctuary, and protect her?
It's a good thing the Dark Lord is probably going to take me away, she thought, pushing her curls behind her ears. I don't know how I'd be able to live in the Manor with him after that. I don't know if I'd be able to stop Draco from -
Thwack.
"Get up."
Hermione jolted when the cane caught her across the upper back.
Lucius.
She was on her feet within moments. She hurried to comb her curls into place, so she wouldn't look like she'd slept on the staircase. Then, she looked up at him.
"The Dark Lord will be arriving soon," Lucius said, his disdainful gaze falling upon her from the step above. "Go upstairs and make yourself presentable. We may be able to salvage this yet."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "We may?"
Lucius brushed past her. "If we play our cards right, he may yet believe that it was a misjudgment."
Hermione glanced up the stairs, wondering what Draco had to say about this.
If the Dark Lord came and they acted like they truly believed that it wasn't a "problem" that Hermione was at the Manor, perhaps they could bluff their way out of it. Yesterday marked six years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Perhaps they could play coy?
That meant that Hermione was going to have to do what she did for Carrow all those weeks ago and play a role. She was going to have to be prepared for anything. This wasn't Carrow they'd be tricking. This was Lord Voldemort.
She bit her lip, lost in thought.
If the Dark Lord decided not to take her away, could she really stay here in the Manor with Draco and his father? Could they go back to the way things were before? After what she had done with Draco the night before, it simply wasn't possible for her to be able to look him in the eyes without remembering the way he sounded when he moaned. She doubted he'd ever forgive her for denying him, either.
She hesitated before saying her next words aloud. As far as Lucius was concerned, Hermione wasn't sure what Draco had him believing. Sometimes Lucius acted like she was his son's slave; sometimes he acted like she was just Narcissa's Healer.
"And you would do this for Draco?" she said, her voice echoing in the quiet, large entryway. "You would lie to your king so he wouldn't have to give me up?"
"No," Lucius said. He glanced over at her. "I would lie to my king so that I don't have to give my family up. I couldn't care less what happens to you."
Hermione stood on the stairs for a few moments to collect herself.
She headed up to her room.
O
Draco was asleep on her bed.
Hermione froze in the doorway. He was lying on his stomach, his arms hugged around the pillow and face turned toward the door and window. His chin-length hair was a haphazard mess, falling into his closed eyes. He still wore only his denim trousers and belt, and she could see that the flat expanse of his back was as toned as the front of his body, though less marred by scars.
The sound of his soft snores reminded her of when he'd cared for her after the accidental poisoning. She felt her heart wrench in her chest.
It reminded her of a time when she thought of Draco as a friend.
Had she ever really thought of him as a friend if she'd gotten down on her knees for him like that?
Suddenly, one of Draco's eyes cracked open. They stared at each other. Hermione felt like there was an electrical storm of tension brewing in the air between them.
"Is he here?" he finally said, sounding hoarse.
She shook her head. "Not yet. Can you leave? I need to . . . To get dressed."
"Does it matter?" he huffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he sat up.
She knew what he meant by that. Well, two could play at that game.
"I guess not," she said in an icy tone, pulling her top off in the open doorway. "I guess it doesn't matter at all."
He was up faster than she could blink, hop-skipping over to her. He reached over her head and slammed the bedroom door shut. Even though he still looked tired, he glowered down at her.
"My father lives here."
Hermione had to force back the urge to smirk. He wasn't as good at bluffing and calling bluffs as she was. She shrugged, forcing back any lingering shyness over standing there in her brassiere.
"I'm property. Who cares who sees?"
"Granger," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Can we . . . Not do this right now? This early?"
Hermione pursed her lips and walked over to her chiffarobe. She pulled it open, wondering what she should wear to look "presentable" for this situation. The Dark Lord was supposed to arrive at first light, and it was technically already light outside. That meant that she didn't have much time.
"Your father wants to put on an act," she said, pulling a slightly fancier dress down from one velvet hanger. It was floor-length, long-sleeved, and made of royal purple satin. Gold embroidery was woven throughout the bodice and there was also gold lacing at the back of it.
"An act?" he said from the door.
"Yes," she said. She paused and then sighed. If she was staying, then they were going to have to navigate things later. She didn't have time to waste on navigation now. She unlaced her pyjama trousers and dropped them to the floor so she could pull the dress on over her head. "Theoretically, if we pretend that it's not an issue that I've been here, perhaps the Dark Lord will take mercy. That's his viewpoint, anyway."
"And what's your viewpoint?" He didn't sound perturbed at seeing her undress and dress in front of him.
Hermione pulled the zipper on the side of the dress up and then pulled her curls out from inside the fabric at the scalloped collar. "I'm a slave, Malfoy. I don't have a viewpoint."
"Oh, don't start with that already," he said with an irritated huff. "It's not even 8:00."
Hermione was already fuming as she pulled the lacing tight on the back of the dress. She tied it in a bow and then turned to face him. He was leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed over his bare chest. He still hadn't scraped his hair back.
His casual, disheveled appearance was startling to her.
"I'm just getting a head start," she said, feigning innocence as she sauntered toward him. "Imagine how mortifying it would be for you if the Dark Lord found out our ruse was real."
When she came to stand in front of him, inches away, her heart was beating so fast that she felt lightheaded. She looked up at him, holding a challenge in her gaze as she studied him.
"Have you made it your personal mission to antagonize me?" he murmured with a slight sneer. "Was last night just the beginning?"
"I don't know," she said, raising her brows. "Was it?"
He scowled. "I can't figure you out, Granger. You swear I'm a monster, but you keep provoking me into becoming one. So how can you know for certain who I really am?"
Hermione reached for his hand and gripped his wrist. To her surprise, he didn't resist when she pulled his hand to her lower back. Using both of her hands, she closed his fingers around the tail ends of the bow she'd tied there. The movement arched her back and pushed her chest against his.
His breath caught in his throat.
"Whether or not you're a monster depends on the choice you make," she said, glaring up at him. "Last night, you made a choice. If we manage to convince the Dark Lord to let me stay, we're going to have to deal with this every day until the day you either let me go or kill me."
The corners of Draco's lips turned up in a smirk and she felt his fingers skating up the length of her spine. They sunk into the depths of her curls and scraped against her scalp. It sent a shiver rocketing through her body, causing her eyelids to flutter in spite of her glare. With a sharp tug, he yanked her head back.
"If you keep provoking me," he said in a cajoling tone, his eyes sparkling with danger, "it's going to be the latter."
If I'm not here as a prisoner, she thought, then why didn't he correct me on the "let me go?"
Hermione, always one to have the last word, said, "Your track record for following through on your threats is poor, Master. I'm not worried about it."
The glimmer in his eyes caught flame. Within seconds, Hermione found herself whirled around and pressed face-first into the wall. Draco's fingers kept her head tugged backward, the back of her skull resting against his pectoral. He smelled faintly of yesterday's cologne, but it did nothing to offer her solace.
Unlike last night, she was worried.
What was he going to do?
Draco let out a dark laugh and brushed his nose along the side of her throat. "I think I'm starting to see the truth, Granger. I think I finally see what you're trying to do."
"And what," she said, voice strained from the tilt of her neck, "am I trying to do?"
"Brass me off." He released her. "I'm going to get dressed. Wait for me in the hall. Do not go downstairs for any reason without me."
She watched through narrowed eyes as he gave her one last lingering glance before he left the room.
As much as he infuriated her, she hoped this worked.
O
Hermione adjusted her skirt on the sitting room floor where she knelt.
To her left, Lucius stood with a nonchalant air about him. He studied his nails, periodically looking up towards the Floo. His long white hair was worn loose about his shoulders. He wore the most extravagant set of black dress robes that Hermione had ever seen, with layers of fabric, silver buttons, and a wide collar.
To her right stood Draco, stretched rigid and tall like a pale sentinel. He was clad in a long-sleeved black jerkin with a high collar and a pair of slim black trousers tucked into black boots with silver buckles. Wrapped around his waist was black belt. Over that, he wore a black cloak that hung to his knees with the hood up on the back of a head full of scraped-back hair. He looked paler than normal and when Hermione stole a glance up into his vacant face, she saw that his eyes appeared rather alert.
They had been standing in the sitting room between the two couches, facing the Floo for the past five minutes. The tension in the room was palpable. Hermione found that the more time passed, the more nervous she became. From what she'd seen in Lucius's memories of the dinner, the Dark Lord was not going to be easy to placate.
"Speak only when spoken to, Miss Granger," Lucius said, his tone hissing and clipped. He kept his eyes on the Floo. "Do not say anything that we did not discuss was approved for you to say. Do not look the Dark Lord in the eyes unless he orders you to, unless you prefer to have your entire life trussed up for viewing by his Legilimency. And for Salazar's sake, do not mention my wife. In any capacity."
Hermione said nothing.
Thwack.
She let out a sound when the cane hit her back, shooting him an offended glance.
"You will answer with 'sir' or 'Master,'" he said. "The Dark Lord -"
"The Dark Lord," Draco suddenly said, his voice a low growl, "has not arrived yet."
Lucius looked at his son, and Hermione could see that something unspoken was passing back and forth between the two. "You would do well to remember that it is not I that has fallen out of his favor, Draco. Your pet needs to understand that as well."
"She understands," Draco said. "Leave your cane at your side, old man."
Lucius started to reply, but Hermione's loud scowl of frustration drew both Malfoy men's attention.
"I know how to act," she said, clasping her hands in her lap. "I know my place. Don't I, Master?"
When her gaze snapped up to meet Draco's, he was glaring at her. She felt ice spreading along the edges of her mind, but she resisted.
She wasn't going to let him in so easily anymore.
Everything was different now. If they succeeded in tricking the Dark Lord, then everything was going to continue to be different. Hermione had accepted that this was not a world that she was welcome in any longer. She saw no reason to keep pretending she believed in Draco's lies any longer.
Lucius sneered at Draco, looking revolted. "Perhaps a ruse is not a ruse with the two of you."
"Perhaps you should shut your mouth, father," Draco shot back in a mocking tone, and then he nudged Hermione's thigh through her skirt with the tip of his boot. "Mind your snark. He could arrive any -"
A cloud of shadows phased into existence in front of the Floo. Tendrils of darkness wafted off of its bulk, swirling up to fade into nothingness in the air. Hermione's heart immediately began to stutter.
The darkness faded and out of its depths came Tom Riddle.
"Good morning." His gaze flickered from Lucius, to Draco, to Hermione, and there it lingered. His voice was deep, and it rolled down Hermione's back in a way that pebbled her skin. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, sinister in the way it seemed so flippant. As if he were here for tea, and not to potentially take her life.
Tom looked similar to the way he had in Lucius's memory, with a three-piece black suit and the curls falling into one eye. But today, he wore a white button-up instead of a black one. His blue eyes pierced across the room and landed directly on Hermione.
She held her breath.
Beside where she already knelt, both Lucius and Draco sunk down to one knee.
"Milord," they said at the same time.
Hermione kept her head up, holding Tom's gaze.
Which was exactly what Lucius had told her not to do.
She meant it to be a show of defiance, but her fear had increased to a point where if she wanted to look down, it would have taken too much effort. She took a shallow breath, squeezing her hands together in her lap until her knuckles paled.
Tom sunk into her head with ease. It wasn't icy, like with Draco. It was hot. It was molten lava oozing across the plains of her mind and melting anything that stood in its way. Hermione had no idea what to do.
Her experiences with Occlusion were limited. She could push memories forward, and she could put memories into boxes and forget them in the day-to-day, but to have someone rummaging around inside of her head? She didn't know how to stop them from getting in.
Frantic, she pushed as many memories as she could forward that wouldn't show Narcissa, the potion, or any of the freedoms she'd been awarded. She focused on her past, shoving childhood events and moments at school to meet the heat of Tom's flames. She felt sweat beading on her forehead as she held the line, supplying him with memories every time he started to wander further.
Finally, he backed away. He slid out of her mind as easily as he had sunk into it, leaving her panting slightly. Her vision blurred for a moment, and then she lowered her gaze. Her head was throbbing.
She should have listened to Lucius.
"Well," Tom said, and Hermione heard his voice coming closer. "This is something, isn't it? Two of my most trusted disciples, and I simply cannot know for certain which of the two of you has hurt me worse."
Hermione gulped, viewing Draco out of her peripheral vision. His face was blank as it stared at the carpet, his body unmoving.
"First, I should like to take a look at the Mudblood who has caused my disciples to wound me so grievously."
Hermione clenched her teeth when she felt magic wrapping around her throat and yanking her high up into the air. She dangled five or six feet off of the ground, her fingers clutching at air that suffocated around her neck. Remaining strong, she allowed her lungs to burn. She refused to open her mouth even to make futile attempts to breathe. If she could be strong when it came to going toe-to-toe with Draco, she could do the same for Tom.
A dark wizard was a dark wizard.
Tom came closer. Hermione kept her eyes on the ceiling.
Though she supposed it didn't matter. Draco could get into her head without needing to look into her eyes. So why would Tom be any weaker?
Tom's magic lowered her until she was slightly above eye level, her feet still clear of the ground. She could feel his breath, heated and moist against her neck. She resisted the urge to gag from the combination of terror and her inability to take in precious oxygen.
"You are a little slip of a thing, aren't you?" Tom murmured, sounding amused. "Ducking in and out of wizarding towns and sanctuaries. Hiding from me for all this time. What, you didn't want to be with me?"
He let her fall to the ground. Her knees slammed down on the floor, the stone feeling harder than usual underneath the carpet. Her kneecaps screamed in pain, but Hermione managed to stifle her cry behind lips sealed tight. She chanced a glance upward to see him turning an amused gaze to Lucius and Draco in turn.
"And the two of you," he said. "Which of you risked it all for her? Which of the two of you set out to break my heart into pieces to offer her safe harbor?"
Draco remained stoic, silent. Lucius immediately began to speak.
"Your Majesty," he said in a whisper, "surely you can understand and - and appreciate the power of temptation on a young wizard's psyche when it comes to school rivalries. You see, my son -"
"Your son," Tom said, raising his voice without filtering any of the calmness out of it, "is the reason we are here, Lucius. He has wounded me with his betrayal twice over. To hide Undesirable Number One in his home and then to deny me the right to see Undesirable Number Two sacrificed in my glory?"
Neville's alive, Hermione thought, powerless to stop the excitement from growing in her chest. That confirms it.
Except that it didn't confirm it. It only confirmed that Draco hadn't carried the execution out. Who was to say that some other Death Eater hadn't jumped at the chance to please their king?
Her excitement plummeted to the foundation of her heart and she retreated back into the safety of her quiet demeanor.
"Tell me, Draco." Hermione saw Tom's black shoes coming into view directly in front of Draco's kneeling form. "Have you become disillusioned with your power and privilege?"
There was a moment's silence; a moment that dragged out too long.
"No, milord," Draco said, voice quiet.
"Then, by all means," Tom said in a voice that was just as soft, but much more dangerous. "Explain your thought process to me."
Lucius cleared his throat. "My Lord -"
"Silence!"
Tom's loud roar echoed around the room, and Hermione flinched away from the tentacles of darkness that were wafting off of his body. They reached for her. The moment their tips stroked the satin of her skirt, smoke began to rise from burn marks on the fabric. With frenetic movements, she pulled and tucked her skirt closer to her body to escape them.
How does he have this power?
The darkness faded again, and Tom continued.
"Draco. I would like an explanation. I would hate to have to ask again."
Draco said nothing.
Hermione's heart raced. They'd discussed this before the Dark Lord arrived. They'd discussed it with Lucius. The plan was set. Surely he hadn't forgotten. Surely he wasn't going to throw his life away just to get back at Hermione for the rows they'd been having?
"I wanted her," Draco said, and it sounded like he was clenching his teeth. Like he didn't even want to say what he'd already agreed with his father to say. "I wanted revenge on her for past grievances during school. So, I went searching for her myself. I found her, brought her here, and made her my slave."
"And the 150,000 galleon payment made to Amycus Carrow?"
A pause. "I paid him for his silence so that she wouldn't be taken from me. She is my slave for a reason. That means I would like to keep her. Respectfully, milord, I believed that after all I had done for you, you would not be remiss to grant me this request without punishment."
Tom began to pace. "You wish for me to grant you not only clemency, but the Mudblood that you stole from me as well?"
Hermione gulped. That didn't sound good.
"Yes," Draco said. "I will admit that I went about it the wrong way, but she is someone that I . . ." He seemed to choose his words with a careful mind. "Desired the ownership of."
Hermione felt the old flames of her anger from last night rising. Of course I am. Of course he desires that.
"And were you able to achieve that goal?"
Hermione frowned and looked over at Draco in spite of her instructions. What did that mean?
"Milord?" Draco said, lifting his head. His eyes met Hermione's for a second before raising to Tom's.
Then, Tom was there, crouching in front of Draco with his elbows on his thighs and his fingers steepled before him. Hermione dropped her gaze quickly, her heart rate rising again.
"Have you fucked the Mudblood yet?"
Hermione's mind screamed at her. What if Tom went into Draco's mind and saw that they hadn't? What if he went inside of his memories and saw the truth of what had happened yesterday? What if he saw her killing Carrow?
She couldn't stop herself. She looked at the Dark Lord.
"Yes, milord," Draco said. "Every day."
Tom smirked. "Show me."
Draco gave him a reverent nod and then looked into his eyes. They stared at each other for a long time, and Hermione knew.
Tom was inside of Draco's head, looking for the memory of something that had never happened.
Hermione's nerves trembled. What would Draco show? The only memory he could possibly show was the events that had taken place in Hermione's bedroom the night before. If he showed those, Hermione would just have to trust that Draco was powerful enough to hide the argument and the night in its entirety from the Dark Lord's Legilimency.
Trusting Draco was difficult.
When Tom blinked rapidly and gave Hermione a once-over, she knew that Draco had shown him something.
"Hm," he said, humming his disapproval. "It would seem that the Mudblood has a penchant for lying facedown on tables in my potioneer's laboratory. It's quite gauche for one such as Harry Potter's Mudblood. Perhaps when you come to the palace, I can show you the proper way to treat your slave, Draco. Should I deign to allow you to keep her, of course."
Hermione felt her stomach roiling, churning with discomfort. She knew for certain that Draco had never bent her over a table in the potions lab. Another chill rent the air, striking down to the depths of Hermione's darkest nightmares.
That means that whatever it was Draco showed him was a fantasy. Something he conjured up from the recesses of his own imagination. Something vivid enough to trick the Dark Lord.
Something that proves he wanted me to be his slave all along.
Hermione closed her eyes.
I was right.
Tom rose to his feet. Rubbing his hand along his jawline, he cast a thoughtful glance over both Draco and Hermione.
"I would like to take the time to think on your request," he said. "For now, you may keep the Mudblood here in your custody until such a time as I summon you to court to receive judgment and my response. Your House Elves will remain in my custody until they are done being questioned."
"Judgment, milord?" Draco asked, his head lifting once again.
Tom smiled and it was more terrifying than his smirk had been. "No sin goes unpunished, Draco. Were you not my most trusted archduke, I would execute you on the spot. Surely even you have not forgotten that only the righteous escape judgment from their Lord."
Draco dropped his head and did not respond.
Hermione wondered if he was scared.
"As for you, Lucius," Tom said, turning his attention to the deathly-quiet Malfoy patriarch. "Do not think me unaware of the fact that you slipped out of the palace after dinner last night."
"I apologize, Your Majesty." Lucius already sounded terrified. "I was -"
"I was also made aware of the fact that Amycus also took leave after the Revel began," Tom went on, beginning to pace towards him at a slow, nonchalant gait. "Interestingly enough, he never returned. However, you did."
"Perhaps he went home for a spell?" Lucius said.
Hermione shot him a sidelong glance. How could he be this terrible at keeping up his own ruse? The idea to trick the Dark Lord with lies was his.
"Perhaps," Tom said, stopping before Lucius and slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Or perhaps one of you knows what happened to him."
"It's merely coincidence, Your Majesty," Lucius insisted, kowtowing completely with his nose touching the ground.
"Coincidence." Tom smiled. "Coincidence that on the night that Amycus spills the secret about your son's illegality and betrayal, you both disappear and only one of you returns?"
When Lucius said nothing, Tom looked to Draco.
"Did you see either your father or Amycus here last night?"
"No, milord," Draco lied. "I saw Carrow last night until he left the Revel. Then, when I came home, my father returned home after me. There was no one else here in the Manor."
Tom said, "Yes, I do recall you leaving the Revel earlier than I instructed. Though it is understandable, given the acts you participated in."
Hermione glanced at Draco out of the corner of her eye again, her stomach churning. She knew what he'd done at the dinner, cursing Neville and being cursed himself.
What had he done at the Revel?
"So what happened to my Head Executioner, hm?" Tom said, voice rising an octave. "Where is Amycus?"
Draco said nothing. Lucius said nothing. Hermione said nothing.
"Very well," Tom said. He sounded bored. "Crucio."
Hermione's head shot up. Tom had withdrawn the Elder Wand.
Lucius began to scream, howling in agony at the top of his lungs as he fell to his side on the floor. Draco started to cry out, but just like he had at the dinner, he managed to choke it off and stifle it behind clenched teeth. He pitched forward on his knees, catching himself on one hand on the carpet. The other arm wrapped around his middle.
The Dark Lord was crucioing them both at the same time.
That isn't possible, Hermione thought in horrified awe. How can he be powerful enough to not only walk in shadows across miles, but also to crucio two people simultaneously?
Lucius's screams faded into deep, anguished gasps. Draco remained in the same position, breathing heavily.
"I asked a question," Tom said after releasing the curse. "I believe it deserves an answer, does it not?"
"Your Majesty," Lucius said, trembling as he tried to push himself back up. "Please. We don't know his whereabouts."
Tom's expression was frigid and unfriendly. "Crucio."
Lucius fell into screams again. Draco only let out a tormented groan, his forehead falling to the floor to meet his fists. Hermione tore her gaze away from Lucius and watched Draco shivering and convulsing in his agony. She felt her heart beating faster again.
She wasn't getting along with him, but that didn't mean that she wanted him to be in this sort of pain. She almost wanted to . . . To reach for him, or to embrace him . . . She supposed it was in her compassionate nature, but the way he was trying to bite back his whimpers was overwhelming to hear.
This was proof. The Dark Lord suspected Lucius and Draco of Carrow's death.
The only issue? Hermione was his killer.
Lucius' screams stopped and Hermione glanced at him. He'd fallen unconscious. She looked at Draco. He was swooning, falling to his side, but still conscious. He rolled onto his back, one hand on his abdomen and his eyes half-lidded and dazed.
"I do not enjoy this," Tom said. "You know that I don't enjoy this, Draco. But I cannot abide by insolence and mendacity. Where is Amycus?"
"I don't fucking know!" Draco yelled, surprising Hermione with his outburst of rage.
Tom blinked and then his face contorted with rage that she hadn't expected. He brandished his wand with vehemence and snarled, "Crucio!"
Draco began to scream this time, as though it were so powerful that he couldn't fight it back. His back bowed up off of the ground and his head rolled towards Hermione. She watched with an expression of horror and helplessness as he screamed and screamed and screamed. He made numerous attempts to get solid breaths in, but it seemed that the Dark Lord had no intention of giving him a third reprieve.
Hermione couldn't sit here and watch this. She just couldn't. She didn't care what was going on between her and Draco. No one deserved to be cursed like this; not for this long.
She was going to tell Tom the truth.
When Draco's agony-darkened eyes met hers, she gave him a desperate look. Immediately, she felt shards of ice stabbing into her mind from all sides. He didn't seem able to be gentle. The pain was acute, but she bit down on her back teeth and forced herself to stay still. The last thing she wanted was Tom noticing that Draco was attempting Legilimency on her while he was using the Cruciatus on him.
I'm going to tell the Dark Lord it was me, Hermione thought the moment she opened her mind to Draco's.
No! Don't you dare!
Hermione's brow furrowed with concern. Please, Malfoy! You can't take the Cruciatus for this long!
His screams choked off into short, gasping sobs. He seemed to be trying his hardest to fight it. To prove that he could take it.
Don't you fucking dare say a word, Granger. Everything I've fucking done for you, and if you give yourself over to him -
Malfoy -
As your master, I order you not to say a word. Do you understand me? I order you not to say a word.
Hermione glared at him, but she found that it was hard to maintain any level of anger when he was sobbing and curling in on himself.
She shot a dark look up in Tom's direction. Seeing the manic gleam in his eyes and the feral grin on his face, she could see how someone as barmy as Bellatrix Lestrange could have fallen for him.
They were both completely sadistic nutters.
Finally, the Dark Lord nixed the curse. Draco pushed himself up on one elbow and then rolled onto all fours, panting with exertion.
"I apologize," Tom whispered, his hand shaking as he slipped the Elder Wand up into his sleeve. "I got carried away. If you say you do not know, then I believe you. The thought that you would hide anything from me . . . No matter." He snapped his fingers and Lucius woke with a start. "Lucius, I would like for you to come to Buckingham immediately. There are things about Romania that we must discuss."
Before Lucius had even finished orienting himself to his surroundings, Tom had disappeared in tendrils of shadow. Lucius struggled to his feet, leaning heavily upon his cane. He gave Draco and Hermione one final withering look.
"He has no shortage of Death Eaters he can appoint into Carrow's position," Lucius said, his voice raw in his throat. "But don't rest too easy: he will keep searching for answers. For now, wait for the Dark Lord's summons to the palace. I will do my best to retrieve the House Elves."
"Just go," Draco said. His voice was husky from screaming and there were tears drying on his cheeks. "Just . . . Fucking go."
Lucius pressed his lips together in a thin line.
Crack. He was gone.
The silence that was left in the large room felt crushing.
Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek. There was still much to navigate, especially with whatever it was that Draco had shown Tom in his "memory," with whatever he'd done at the Revel, and with their toxic interrelations. They were by no means friends.
But she wanted to go to him.
"Malfoy?" she said softly, creeping towards him on her knees.
"Stay there," he said angrily, his body wracked with violent convulsions.
Hermione drew her hand back towards her chest, frowning. "What should we do now?"
"How the fuck should I know?" he cried, his teeth chattering. "I've never been in this position. I've never messed up this badly. I don't know how long it's going to be for him to make his decision, nor do I know what's going to happen to either of us."
"Will he execute you?" Hermione asked.
"No - fuck - he won't," Draco said, wincing as he moved to sit on his rear and lean back against the front of the chaise. He looked like he was still in pain. "He needs his potion. But that doesn't mean he won't punish me. It doesn't mean he won't take you away."
Hermione pouted down at the floor. "What did he mean by the table in the lab?"
"Just leave it alone, Granger."
"No," she said, her anger rising again. "I want to know what you showed him."
His eyes flashed with danger. "Leave it."
"You swore to me last night that you weren't lying to me," she said, her fists balled in her lap. "Yet it's a rather narrow coincidence that you were able to conjure up a memory of bending me over the potions lab table for Your Majesty."
"You want to see it?" he said, his hand shooting out to wrap around the back of her neck. "I'll show you."
Hermione's shock was faster than her body's reaction. By the time she thought to try to pull herself out of his grasp, the ice storm was already swirling in her head. Within seconds, he was inside of her mind, pressing images there that were way too vivid to be false, but involved her doing things she had never done.
The potions lab in the middle of the night, the stars and the moon showing in the windows.
Hermione, bent over the new table he'd bought her, her skirt rucked up to her lower back.
Draco behind her, one hand digging into her hair, the other disappearing between the table's edge and her lower body.
The filthy things they were saying to one another.
The look of desire on his face.
None of it had happened, and yet he'd imagined it. None of it was real, but it was clearly something that he'd thought about enough to paint an undeniable picture.
Everything that she'd feared was true.
He wanted her.
She shoved him out of her mind as hard as she could, using her hand to physically push his body away for good measure.
"You're vile," she said, baring her teeth.
"I'm vile?" He used the couch to pull himself to his feet, glaring at her. "I'm vile? You killed a man and blamed it on me. How's that for vile? Notice how I just went through Hell for you, for something that you did, and I never once blamed you for it. I took responsibility for my part."
"What part?!" she cried. "The part where you paid for me like chattel?"
"The part where I left you here, alone, with no protection," he snarled. "So yeah, Granger. Maybe I fantasize about you from time to time. But that doesn't mean I lied to you when I brought you here. It doesn't mean I've wanted you as my slave all along. It just means I want to fuck you."
She opened her mouth to reply, getting to her feet, but he appeared to be done with the conversation.
With a crack, he DisApparated.
Hermione stood there, alone in the sitting room, sick to her stomach thinking of the one thing she wished she could deny.
Her thighs were trembling again.
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