Chapter 7- The Real Draco Malfoy
They had been married a week and still Hermione did not know what game Voldemort was playing. The newly weds had not dared lessen their performance. They played the part of young lovers but increasingly, to Hermione, it seemed less of an act. Her new husband was gentle, attentive and she could not help but feel that if this were the real Draco Malfoy she could quite readily fall in love with him.
It was on their tenth day as man and wife that Voldemort called them into his presence. Hermione caught Draco's eye as Bellatrix called them to the 'Dark Lord'. It was apparent from the way his shoulders tensed that he had no more idea what to expect from this audience than she had.
Tentatively they entered Voldemort's presence. Draco didn't know if he should be more afraid or not that this seemed to be a private audience.
"Ah, there you are!" The self styled Dark Lord hissed, in a tone as friendly as a rattle snake."come, he continued beckoning the pair forward. "You can not know how I have looked forward to this meeting Draco."
"My Lord," Draco responded quietly not entirely sure if the Dark Wizard had even expected a reply. an instant later he knew.
"Crucio!"
Voldemort flung the dark curse at him without any word of warning. Draco felt as if he were being flayed alive. Voldemort hit him with the curse over and over again yet he asked no questions, made no threats. Draco didn't understand. Dimly he was aware that Hermione was still at his side but there was nothing he could do to protect her.
Hermione had gone rigid. Her knuckles white on her tightly clenches fists. There might have been a time when a darker side of her might have revelled in watching her blond companion suffer. It was not now.
"Stop it!" She finally cracked, "Stop it, your killing him. What has he done?" She yelled raising to her feet an drawing her wand. It was a futile gesture. She had not even opened her month to utter the first syllable of the spell before Voldemort disarmed her.
"Would you kill for him?" Voldemort guessed with malevolent glee. "Would you tear your soul to keep him alive? Perhaps you would suffer for him?"
He didn't wait for a reply before he turned the spell on Hermione. Her body remembered this spell but it was so much worse when Voldemort cast it. It was almost as if Bellatrix had been toying with her. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction but as the second curse hit her she screamed.
Somehow, through his pain, Draco heard that scream. The agony that had haunted his nightmares. He couldn't bear it a second time. Draco hardly knew what he was doing as he threw his body over hers to shield her.
"No!" He managed to grind out. It was not a plea it was a command. Voldemort howled with glee.
"Fascinating...you would die for a mud-blood? The last scion of the house of Malfoy. The only male descendent of the most ancient and noble house of Black and you would die prostrate and trembling for a mud-blood."
He turned now to kneel and lift Hermione's chin.
"And you Mrs Malfoy. Has the noble name inspired you to noble deeds? He was your swore enemy and yet...you were prepared to take his pain. It was a futile act and yet..."
Voldemort seemed as if he was trying to work out the solution to some puzzle. The answer to which alluded him.
As quickly as he had given them his attention it seemed that his focus had shifted elsewhere. Still neither Hermione nor Draco dare to move. They hardly dared to breathe. There were long painful minutes before he saw fit to instruct them to go. Painfully Draco half carried half-dragged Hermione from the room.
Barely conscious and struggling for breath Draco called for his house-elf. It was the last thing he remembered.
-o0o-
It must have been some hours later when Hermione finally awoke in their bed. Draco wasn't there, she had no idea where he was or if he was seriously injured. All that remained of him was is lingering scent on her skin and she prayed that meant he had lain there with her.
She reached out a hand to the Draco sized indentation on the mattress and sighed with relief when she realised it was still warm. He can't have gone far? She reassured herself. As if the thought had conjured him Draco emerged from the en-suite. A towel slung low on his hips, his hair still damp and ruffled. Merlin did she like what she saw.
"You're awake." He stated interrupting her reverie.
"Are you okay?" She began but she stopped as a charming smile spread across his lips.
"There was a time not long ago when you wouldn't have cared."
Hermione huffed out a sigh.
"Why did he do that?" She asked ignoring Draco's statement.
"I'm not sure but my father has a notion that he is fascinated by love. The Dark Lord seems unable to determine wether love is a curse or a boon."
"Your father said as much to me. He called us an experiment."
"And when he finds the answer he is looking for..."
"He won't," Hermione interrupted vehemently. No matter how he moved the pieces she was confident Voldemort would never grasp the concept of selfless love and it gave her hope that ultimately he would be defeated.
"He will never understand love as anything other than weakness."
"It is certainly painful." Draco scoffed.
Whilst they were talking Hermione had not noticed the tremor running through Draco's fingers. Not until he lifted his hand to brush his hair aside. It was the after effects of the curciatus curse. If used repeatedly it caused nerve damage.
"How often has he done that to you?" She asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Often enough."
She looked at him then. In the last few days Hermione had had to reappraise everything she thought she knew about Draco Malfoy. This would be another revision. Where she had thought him a coward he was in fact incredibly brave. Though he knew what it might cost him, permanent nerve or brain damage, he had thrown himself on top of her. Acted as a human shield to spare her the worst.
"Thank you." She said solemnly.
Draco Malfoy was an intelligent man. He didn't need to ask. He knew why she was thanking him. For a long moment he said nothing.
"Was it just an act Granger?" Hermione didn't bother to correct him, to say she was no-longer a Granger. Just like he had understood her instinctively she knew what he was asking her.
"You made love to me. It was no more an act for me than it was to you."
Draco's eyes locked with hers and he wondered. Was she telling him that she could, after all, learn to love him?
The moment was shattered by a hammering on the door.
"Draco," Bellatrix hollered, "bring your mud-blood whore. The Dark Lord wishes to see you."
Hermione's eyes snapped to his. They were drenched in fear but it was not for herself, Draco realised, she was afraid for him. At that moment Draco knew she was right. No matter how much pain Voldemort inflicted on them. He would never understand how it felt to fear for another more than you feared for yourself. Until now Draco had hardly understood that himself.