Chapter 12

Content Warning

Draco stood up and strode to the opposite end of the library. Hermione followed.

With a flick of his wand, one the bookshelves began rotating to reveal an intricately carved cabinet. Draco opened it to reveal a massive, onyx pensieve on a silver pedestal, embellished with glittering emeralds.

Hermione stood beside him and felt the foreboding presence of the pensieve, its clear waters an infinite black against the stone. She put a hand on his arm.

"We don't...we don't have to…if you don't want to."

He gave her a sad smile. "I've never wanted to do anything less in my life." He looked at the shallow basin with determination. "I feel like I need to."

Hermione nodded and Draco put his wand to his temple. His brow furrowed as he slowly pulled the wand away, a glowing blue tendril following it: his memories.

He pulled several strands from his temple and brought them into the pensieve where they began swirling.

Draco took a breath and centered himself. Hermione took his hand and held it firmly. He looked at her and she was reminded of that sad, gaunt, boy she'd seen him transform into their sixth year at Hogwarts.

They both leaned forward, face-first into the dark basin, and felt themselves being taken to another time, but not necessarily another place.

oOo

It took a second for Hermione to get her bearings. They were in the Malfoy Library. A younger Draco was in one of the big wingback chairs, reading, his legs lazily hanging over the side of the chair.

Hermione guessed that it was sometime after sixth year, Draco looked worse for wear, his foot shaking over the edge of the chair with anxious energy.

Narcissa strode right past them, almost walking through them. She approached her son.

"Draco, don't sit in that chair like an animal!"

Draco rolled his eyes, shifted his legs over the side of the chair, and sat up properly.

"Who cares?" He mumbled, almost imperceptibly.

Almost.

"I do," Narcissa hissed. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and when she opened them, she seemed to be on the brink of tears. "Draco…" she wrung her hands.

Draco put down his book and stood up, his bad attitude replaced with worry. "Mother, what's wrong."

"...The Dark Lord...will be using the Manor as his headquarters. He will arrive in one hour."

Draco looked terrified. "What? Why?" He stammered. "Why here, can't he go anywhere he wants?"

"This...is where he wants. Bella says it's a great honor," Narcissa said shaking her head.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, Aunt Bellatrix would be honored cleaning his toilets, so we can't really trust her opinion. …How long is he staying?"

Narcissa put a hand on her son's shoulder, her other hand gently swiping across his forehead, moving his hair out of his face.

"I don't know," she whispered. "But it is going to be...very difficult. I think the Dark Lord is planning to punish us somehow for-" she stopped.

Draco pulled away from her. "For my failures," he said frustrated. "But Snape got the job done anyway, so what does it matter?"

"You know the Dark Lord does not prescribe to logic," she said gently.

"You know he offered me help. Dumbledore." Draco said bitterly. "And all I could think of was you."

"I know."

Tears were forming and Draco was almost talking to himself. "All I could think of was that if I went with Dumbledore, the Dark Lord would kill you. Dumbledore said he would protect you too, but...how could he? I wanted to go with him so badly, but then Snape showed up and killed him anyway! We could have had a chance...a way out."

"Severus had his reasons," Narcissa said cryptically.

Draco ignored her. "Do you think...we could still find a way out?"

Narcissa looked at her son with a resigned look. "No. I think it would be wise to stay where we are."

"Couldn't we contact Aunt Andromeda?"

Narcissa looked surprised that her son had invoked a name she hadn't heard in years, and that he referred to her as "Aunt".

She shook her head. "No. My sister and I are not on speaking terms...we haven't been for almost twenty years."

"Mother, we need some kind of plan. Do we really want to be on this side when the real fighting starts?"

"I want to be on whichever side will ensure we walk away with our lives, Draco."

Draco was about to respond when the Library doors slammed open.

Lucius strode in, angry. "What are you both milling about for? We have much to prepare for the Dark Lord's arrival!"

Glimmering tendrils of blue liquid began creeping in on the edges of the scene, until it was completely covered.

Hermione and Draco were now in the Dining Room of the Manor, which was now set up as the Dark Lord's War Room, an array of Death Eaters assembled.

It appeared that the meeting had just ended. Several Death Eaters stood up from their seats and dashed away in ribbons of black smoke.

Everyone had left except Voldemort, Snape, and the three Malfoys.

Snape cleared his throat.

"Yes? Severus? You're always asking the most pertinent questions, do go on," Voldemort commanded with a lazy wave of his skeletal hand.

"Your prisoner," Snape said directly.

A slight, but malicious, smile curled on the Dark Lord's lips. "What about her?"

"Do you want us to keep her alive?"

Voldemort considered it a moment, the woman's life hanging in the balance. That pleased him. "For now, yes. I might have some use for her."

Snape nodded curtly. "Very well. We will have to feed her then, My Lord."

Voldemort laughed, a quick, sharp, crow's shriek that chilled one to the bone. "Why didn't you say so, Severus? By all means. Here," with bony fingers he reached for the bowl of fruit in the center of the table. From it he pulled a section of grapes, one that was more vine than fruit. He tossed it to Snape. "Give her this."

Snape put the grapes on a plate and stood to leave. The Malfoys followed.

Narcissa and Lucius went up to their bedroom to get some rest. Draco lingered with Snape.

Snape eyed the boy and put the measly plate of grapes in his hand. "Here, you go down. It's your family's dungeons after all."

"What, like I'm the Dark Lord's errand boy?"

"And I am?" Snape replied angrily.

His godfather, standing before him, had taught Draco too many techniques of Occlumency to be able to hide his true feelings. He knew Snape wasn't really angry, only tired.

"What are we going to do, Uncle Severus?" Draco whispered.

"We are going to do as we are told...and survive."

"You're lying. I know you're up to something behind the scenes."

Snape was quiet a moment and Draco could tell that he was grappling with whether or not to trust him. He made up his mind quickly.

"It is safer to leave you in the dark."

Draco looked down at the plate he was holding, three grapes on a twisted, brittle vine. "It doesn't feel safer."

"I'll pull you in if I need you. For now, you have to trust me."

Draco nodded and made his way downstairs to the dungeons.

Hermione and Draco followed down what seemed a never-ending stone staircase, down to the depth of the Manor. A few torches flickered against the damp stone walls, providing a little light but no warmth. The air was cold, the walls dripping.

Huddled in a corner, locked in by immense iron bars was Hogwarts Professor Charity Burbage.

Draco slipped the plate past the bars and placed it gently on the cold, stone floor. Professor Burbage did not move, but she spoke.

"Thank you, Draco," she said in a strained, weak voice.

Draco was about to walk away but stopped at the sound of his name. He turned and despite her situation he was the one who was afraid.

"You know me?"

Charity shifted on the floor and smiled. "I know you."

Draco was struck dumb. "I was never a student of yours," he said stupidly.

Charity almost laughed, her eyes crinkled when she smiled, no matter how sad or exhausted that smile was. "I always wished you would have been. Don't you remember me smiling at you during passing periods?"

Draco remembered. He remembered being disgusted by her. Now he only felt disgusted with himself. He looked away from her. "Why did you do that?" he asked.

She settled into her spot on the floor, rubbing her arms with her hands. "I always tried to be extra nice to those certain pure-blood students who'd never be caught dead in any of my classes. Ironically, you were the students I wanted to reach the most."

"Why?"

"I knew I could help you. Every year, at the start of term, Dumbledore would hand me a list of all of the students whose parents opted them out of my class. Your name was always right at the top. I couldn't get to you; your parents wouldn't let me. But I always tried to be kind when I saw you in the hallways, to get through to you.

Draco eyed her suspiciously. She continued with a sigh.

"I know my efforts were futile. But...especially when you were younger...I thought you had a chance."

"A chance to what?" Draco asked angrily.

She looked at him with sad, tired eyes. "A chance to be a good person."

He looked at her, a little angry, a little shocked. "Why would you think that?"

"I had to."

He looked down at her, her unkempt hair, thin cardigan, no shoes. They must have kidnapped her in the dead of night.

"Yeah, well. Look at you now," He said bitterly and started the long journey back upstairs.

He heard the soft scrape of the plate against the stone floor and a stifled sob from the Dark Lord's prisoner.

Again, those inky blue tendrils appeared, the scene changing though the scenery was quite similar.

Draco had returned to the dungeon, possibly days later. He put down the plate of food, a half-eaten apricot was the only thing authorized by the Dark Lord to give. This time Charity was seated much closer to the bars. She lifted the plate and took a bite of the fruit gratefully.

"Thank you, Draco."

Draco grimaced, but stood still. He was utterly confused but fascinated by the woman before him.

"I did some research," he said curtly. "You're a pure-blood."

Charity savored the last bite of the apricot, then looked up at him. "So?" she asked with an almost mocking smile.

Draco felt like throwing his hands up in frustration. "So why are you obsessed with muggles? Why do you teach classes about them? You could have taught about anything! Better yet you could have married another pure-blood and had nothing to do with any of this mess!"

Charity took him in with great curiosity and grace. She nodded slowly. "I suppose that's true. And that would have made my father very happy...to marry someone just like him." She said this with a heavy heart. She shook her head and tilted it toward Draco. "Have you ever interacted with muggles?"

"Of course not," Draco said, sickened.

Charity smiled. "They're fascinating. They're wonderful, so resourceful and creative. They dream so much bigger than we do. You know they've walked on the Moon?"

"That's made up."

"You'd fit right in with them."

"No! I would not," Draco burst out, turning away from her once again. He was about to walk away when he remembered something in his pocket. It was a smashed roll from the dinner table.

"Here. I stole this for you." He threw it into her cell, like a child throwing a tantrum, then he was gone up the stairs.

The glowing blue ink gathered and swirled and presented snippets of the following weeks. Draco would steal extra food for Charity, bring it to her, they would argue. He would leave.

This particular scene was different, Draco was sitting down next to her, separated by the bars of her enclosure.

He looked as bad as she did. His face was drawn and gray and he was almost slumped over. Living with Voldemort was exhausting. Sitting with Charity was his only reprieve from the horrors upstairs.

He had brought her a crust of bread someone had dropped on the floor and some slices of hard salami he had hidden in his pocket. If you had told him the year before that he'd be smuggling cured meats in his clothes for the Muggle Studies professor of all things, he would have cursed you.

He sat quietly as Charity savored her rations.

"How's your family doing up there?" She broke the ice.

Draco laughed bitterly. "Terrible. He hardly lets us sleep."

"Why?"

"I think he gets bored without us," he looked at her and they both laughed. Draco frowned and continued. "And…"

"What?" Charity asked softly.

"There's this horrible feeling up there. Especially when his stupid snake is around. It's...like a ringing in your ears and this heaviness. I can't figure out what it is. I've been trying to figure it out in the Library whenever I get a chance."

Charity thought for a moment. "Do you think he's doing it on purpose? To wear you down?"

"He must be. Why though?"

Charity smirked. "He must be afraid of losing you. That you'll defect. So, he keeps you here hostage."

Draco leaned against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "I wish…" he whispered. "The problem is my mother isn't willing to even try to get out unless it's a sure thing. My father...I think he's losing his mind. And can't tell which side Uncle Severus is on, not one hundred percent."

"He's on our side," Charity said sharply. "He has to be. Dumbledore would never have let teach at Hogwarts if he didn't trust him."

"He killed Dumbledore," Draco said softly.

Charity looked away, tears brimming in her eyes. "There must have been a reason. He's...your Godfather right?"

"Yes."

"I think you should trust him then...he's your family."

Draco smirked. "Yeah...sure. My family is super trustworthy. That's our most well-known trait."

Charity rolled her eyes. "They'll protect you."

Draco was quiet. He turned and asked her seriously, "Do you have any family?"

Charity looked at the ceiling, trying to control her emotions. "My fiancée, Sarah…she's probably so worried about me." A tear rolled down her cheek, creaking a clean track down her dirty face. "She was always telling me I was wasting my time with Muggle Studies. She always said Pure-Blood wizards were notoriously ungrateful and they didn't deserve me. But that's what I get for having a name like 'Charity' I suppose."

The scene swirled and then returned a few weeks later.

Draco was running down the Dungeon steps, failing to hide his excitement, almost spilling Charity's plate.

She was sleeping in the corner of her cell.

Draco put the plate down and called out to her in a whisper. She stirred.

He put down the plate and stood, holding the bars.

"Have you ever read anything about horcruxes?"

"Hmmm?" Charity was groggy and growing weaker every day. "I think so, that's dark magic right? Not my forte."

"Lucky for us my family has a disturbingly well stocked library of books on dark magic. A horcrux is formed when one splits their own soul and transfers the fragment into an object."

Charity looked disturbed. "Draco…"

Draco shook his head. "I don't want to make one...I'm saying the Dark Lord already has. I think he's made several. It explains everything."

Charity looked off into nowhere, not touching her food. "That's awful."

"No! This is perfect!" He got down on his knees and implored to her. "If we destroy the horcruxes, the Dark Lord will be mortal again and we can kill him!"

Charity dashed to the bars. "You be quiet right now," she hissed.

Draco wasn't listening. "I need to tell someone. We can destroy the horcruxes, I can find Sarah and tell her where you are. We can win," he cried.

At Sarah's name, Charity closed her eyes and stifled a sob. Then she grabbed Draco's hands. "No! This is too dangerous. Calm down and be rational," she said, it had the same effect as slapping him.

"Think," she continued. "The light side has so many resources, I'm sure they've figured this out for themselves. They're probably destroying horcruxes as we speak."

"They don't have the books that I do."

"They have Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger, I'm sure they're doing just fine without us."

Draco pressed his forehead against the bars, tears streaming down his face. "I want to get out. I want you to get out."

Charity sighed weakly. "We both know I don't have much time left."

"I could get you a wand, we could dig a tunnel," he was grasping at straws.

She held his hands tighter. "Draco. You need to focus on survival. Think about every step. Are you able to apparate out of the Manor?"

Draco shook his head no.

"Has he given you access to your wand?"

Again, no.

"So, you sneak out in the dead of night. No wand, nowhere to go on foot. Are the grounds guarded by Death Eaters? Of course, they are. You wouldn't make it ten steps out the front door."

"But-"Draco argued. But he knew she was right.

"Keep your head down. I know you feel helpless and hopeless, but you're in the lion's den. You need to keep still."

"What about you? You're going to d-die," Draco let out a wet sob.

Charity's tears were flowing freely. "I've known that to be the outcome the second I was taken. I have a feeling he's going to kill me any day now, you know well that he gets bored. He has no use for me." She reached out and swept Draco's hair aside and looked at him in such a motherly way, it almost broke him. "I need you to do a few things for me, okay?"

He nodded and sniffed.

"Great. I need you to get me a piece of parchment or paper. Anything. And something to write with, it can even be some charcoal. I want to write to Sarah before…"

Draco started crying again, he couldn't control it.

"Hey," Charity soothed, despite the fact that she was crying as well. "It's not fair. And it's not okay. But I don't have much time."

"What am I going to do when you're gone?" Draco whispered.

Charity smiled. "Please remember me. Eventually you can deliver my letter to Sarah. That's all I want."

The liquid blue tendrils swirled around them and transformed into a scene Hermione had only ever heard about, but never seen for herself.

Charity was suspended over Voldemort's meeting table, begging for her life. Snape looked away from her, Draco was shaking, desperately trying not to cry. She was killed and then her body disrespected in the most disgusting way as she was eaten by the Dark Lord's pet.

The scene quickly changed to that very evening.

Draco laid in his bed, silently staring at the ceiling. Tears were streaming down the sides of his face, his mouth an uncontrolled quivering frown.

He closed his eyes and his body convulsed with silent sobs, for the Dark Lord would not appreciate the sound of weeping.

He rolled into his side and hugged himself, almost curling into a ball.

The waves of helplessness and rage he was feeling were close to consuming him.

He put his hands over his face. Then, he began hitting his face with his fists, hard. Anything to distract from the emotional pain. Physical pain would have to do.

He pulled his hair and scratched his eyes.

Hermione took a step forward. She felt Draco's steady hand on her back, and she stopped.

Draco slammed a pillow over his face and started screaming.

"We can't help him," Draco said.

The scene was enveloped in a blue fog and they were placed seemingly months later. Based on the timeline of when Charity was killed, Hermione knew she, Harry, and Ron were about to be on the run.

Draco appeared to be at his breaking point. Charity was dead, his parents barely spoke, he felt more alone than he'd ever felt before.

The only bright spot was that The Dark Lord seemed to be getting bored enough with the Manor that he would often leave for days at a time. No one knew where he went, but Draco was grateful for any kind of reprieve. And, he finally had a chance to corner Snape.

Snape was walking down one of the Manor's endless hallways, Draco joined him, and they were in step, both looking straight ahead.

"I need to talk to you," Draco said quietly.

"It would be better if you didn't," Snape replied.

Draco stopped and grabbed Snape by the arm, now they were facing each other. "You've known me since I was a baby. You know if I'm trustworthy or not. You know where my loyalties lie."

Snape looked into his Godson's eyes and for the first time he saw someone whose ideals one hundred percent aligned with his own. No more hesitation, Draco was finally fully committed to defeating Voldemort. Snape almost smiled.

"It has been a long road for you, Draco."

"Yeah, well, you're no saint either."

Again, that faint smile appeared.

Hermione was rattled. This Snape was a completely different person than the one she knew and loathed at school. He was almost kind.

"So, you're not a Death Eater?" Draco questioned.

"In name only," Snape answered.

"Do my parents know?"

"I believe your mother...suspects."

Draco couldn't hide the shock on his face. Why had his mother never hinted at this before?

Snape reassured him. "Your mother sees the bigger picture now. She knows that she and I will always be on the same side when it comes to protecting you."

"Protect me from what? The Dark Lord? You're not doing a great job with that."

"And from yourself," Snape said quietly. "Your mother instructed me to keep you from killing Dumbledore at all costs."

Draco stood in quiet shock, mentally putting everything together. "Good job with that too," he said with sarcastic anger. "Dumbledore is still dead."

Snape sighed. "We have much to discuss."

The scene shifted and the pair were now in a small room, just off the Manor's Kitchens. The room was filled with open books and maps, Hermione perused them briefly.

Draco flipped through a large, dark volume, dust particles exploding from each page.

Snape strolled in, removing his wet coat. "Find anything helpful?"

Draco closed the book and leaned back in his chair to grab a newspaper from a side table behind him. He handed the paper to Snape. "They were last seen at the cafe in Muggle London."

Snape scanned the paper but could not readily see where Draco was getting this information from. "How do you know this?"

Draco smirked. "Two men were found on the scene of the destroyed cafe. Their memories were taken."

Snape nodded. "She is rather good at those memory charms; I'll give her that."

Hermione stiffened. They were talking about her.

"So where would they go from there?" Snape wondered to himself.

Draco sighed and sat up straight. "She's very sentimental, probably somewhere meaningful to her. Somewhere muggle I'm sure."

"Hmmm," Snape thought. "Where did she grow up again?"

Draco reached across the table for a thick stack of parchment. He flipped through.

Hermione moved closer to get a better look. She saw copies of her own birth certificate, primary school records, photos of her family, all annotated.

"You were trying to find us? That whole time?"

Draco nodded but remained silent, looking at his younger self.

"Brighton," Draco answered. "That's where her parents' dental practice was, it has since been boarded up. Maybe somewhere by the beach?"

"No," Snape shook his head. "They would want more coverage than that. Where did her grandparents live?"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. They were getting closer.

"Gloucester. But I don't think they'd want to choose another city, not after they were so easily found in London." Then Draco had an idea. "What's that big forest near there?"

Snape scanned the maps on the wall.

"The Forest of Dean."

The weeks and months flashed by, appearing as uneventful and frustrating as the Trio's experience hiding in the woods. Days blurred together until something exciting happened.

Hermione watched with awe as Snape came into the tiny Kitchen room and laid the Sword of Gryffindor on the table.

Draco looked up and smiled. "Perfect."

Snape sat down, exhausted.

"How's Hogwarts?" Draco said after a moment.

Snape sighed. "Bloody awful. Ginevra Weasley and Neville Longbottom are driving me insane. They almost got the bloody sword."

"And where is the fake?"

"Tucked away safely in Bellatrix's vault."

Draco touched the hilt of the sword lightly. "Where are we going to put it?"

"I have a few ideas. Hopefully, Potter will be able to find it."

Again, the scene changed in a whirl of blue.

Draco was asleep in his bed; Snape shook him awake roughly.

"Wha-?"

"You've been summoned downstairs," Snape said hastily. Draco sat up. "They've been found."

Draco's face fell into his hands, then he looked at Snape desperately. "What are we going to do?"

Snape sighed and tried to hold himself together. "They will be brought here immediately. They're smart enough to disguise themselves, especially Potter." Snape put a hand on Draco's shoulder. "You will be asked to identify them."

Draco shook his head, terrified. "No-"

"You will have to lie."

Any color that remained drained from Draco's face. "He'll see right through me!"

Snape shook his head. "The Dark Lord will not be there; I'll make sure of it. Your parents will say nothing. The one to worry about is Bellatrix, but we've fooled her before, almost daily."

"I don't know if I can-"

"Look at me, Draco. Remember everything I taught you. Empty your mind. Focus on the lie and make it reality. Make it the most logical truth and do not stray from it. She will test you, but you are strong. You have to be. I will keep the Dark Lord away for as long as I can." He turned to go leaving Draco to pull himself together.

Hermione knew Draco was kind enough to prevent her from reliving the worst night of her life. The events of the Trio's questioning and her torture at the hands of Bellatrix were skipped over, but she instantly recognized the aftermath. The shattered chandelier, the blood glistening on the floor, her blood.

Bellatrix was panicking to say the least. She raced around the room in a fit of rage. She whipped and snarled like a wild animal. She stopped abruptly, turned, and stalked towards Draco who was visibly shaking. Narcissa stood in front of him.

"Bella, please-"

Bellatrix shoved her sister roughly to the floor, Narcissa's wrist cracking painfully as she braced her fall. Lucius did not stir.

Draco saw fire in his Aunt's eyes and was afraid.

"You knew it was them," she snarled.

"I did not," Draco said as calmly as he could, emptying his mind as Snape had instructed.

"Liar!" Bellatrix screamed. Then she slashed him across the face, three track lines of blood appearing on his cheek where her long nails had cut him.

Draco stood still, his mother on the floor crying. He didn't look at her or his aunt.

Bellatrix strode away from her nephew. "We'll let the Dark Lord decide what to do with you, Draco," she spat. "He'll be here any minute, I can feel it."

The room became cold as a tall, ghostly figure materialized in the center. Snape had failed.

Bellatrix fell to her knees at the feet of her beloved. "My Lord," she simpered. "Much has happened since-"

Voldemort all but kicked her aside. "I don't need your explanation. I know everything before you even think to begin to tell me. Never forget that," he said sternly. Then he gestured to the chandelier and blood.

"I see you've been overzealous as usual, Bella. Such a mess. My apologies, Narcissa, for what your sister has done to your fine floor." He bowed gracefully to her, she herself still on the floor adding to the grim absurdity of the scene. Voldemort stood tall and looked at Lucius with his red, snake eyes.

"However," he said darkly. "It seems that someone should apologize to me." He strode toward Draco. "Harry Potter has been in this room; I can sense it." He stood near Draco's face, their foreheads almost touching and looked at his quizzically like a snake regarding a mouse.

"Why do you lie, Draco?"

Draco stood still, desperately trying to eliminate any and all emotion.

Voldemort laughed, a sinister sound that echoed. He turned to Draco again, locking eyes with the boy, analyzing.

"Were you scared, Draco?" he asked with mock sympathy.

"No, my Lord."

Voldemort brushed his hand against Draco's cheek, almost relishing in the blood that oozed from those three parallel cuts. "Come, Draco. You are a talented liar, that can be quite useful. But I know when you're lying to me."

"I would never lie to you, My Lord."

"So, you didn't know it was them? Schoolmates you've grown up with, suddenly strangers to you. You simply...forgot what they looked like?" He mocked theatrically; Bellatrix laughed with her tongue out like a dog.

Voldemort continued. "Tell me, Draco. What do you think your punishment should be? Hmmm? Should I... kill your mother perhaps?" He raised his wand at Narcissa, and everyone remained frozen. The wand lowered slowly.

"No, that would be a bit cliche, don't you think?" He turned away from Draco. "Let me see, I know." He turned back. "Lift up your sleeve, Draco."

Draco did and exposed his Dark Mark.

"What do you think of that mark, my boy?"

"It is an honor, My Lord."

"It should be. But you've soiled it with your lies. Now I know that you were scared. You didn't mean it. It won't happen again. Would you like a second chance, Draco?"

Draco paused. He knew there was no way out. "...yes, My Lord."

"Good. You are much more useful to me alive then dead. But you must be punished, you agree? I want you to remember this night."

Everyone in the room remained silent.

"What? You don't appreciate my mercy?" He turned to Narcissa. "Should I punish the boy or kill him?"

Tears streamed down her face. She could hardly get out a word.

"What was that dear Cissy? I didn't hear you."

"Please. Punish him," she choked out.

"Very well then. Mummy insists." He raised his wand and flicked it. Two straight cuts appeared on either side of Draco's mark and began gushing blood. Draco stifled a scream and clutched his arm, falling to the floor.

Voldemort didn't stop there; he flicked his wand again. The skin of Draco's arm twisted as it reluctantly detached itself from his body. The fiery pain was blinding. Voldemort relished and smiled as Draco screamed.

He bellowed happily above the sound of Draco's cries. "If you're not going to behave like a Death Eater, my boy, I'll alter the brand!"

The scene dissipated, Draco's screams fading away into the watery nothing of the pensieve.

Hermione and Draco emerged from the pensieve, hair and faces dripping wet and trying to catch their breath from the emotional experience. They looked at each other and Hermione quickly hopped up on her toes, wrapping her arms securely around Draco's shoulders, her face nestled into his neck. He held her back, tears streaming down his face at the generosity she was showing him.

She gently let go of their embrace and turned her attention to his arm. She lifted his sleeve and he stood still as she inspected his wounds, a constant reminder of Voldemort's cruelty.

"How has it not healed by now? Not even a little bit?" Hermione asked.

"It's Dark Magic," Draco said quietly. "I've tried everything."

"Does it hurt?" She stroked his hand gently, tenderly.

"Yes, all the time."

She let go of his hand and took a step back. "Why didn't I know you were working with Snape?"

"Because I never told anyone."

"Draco...you should tell your story. Your contributions, your bravery-"

He interrupted. "I don't deserve to be forgiven."

Hermione approached him again and put her hand on his cheek, the one that Bellatrix had slashed so long ago. She felt very faint raised marks there that she had never noticed before. She wiped the tears from his eyes, disregarding her own, and she pulled his head down so she could kiss him.

"Yes," she said. "You do."

Then she kissed him sweetly, on her toes once again and Draco pulled her up. Their kiss deepened as Draco supported her head and back, Hermione's hands on the back of his neck. Her toes curled in her shoes and she could hear her heart beating in her ears.

"Wait," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione," he breathed into her and she pulled away. It was his turn to wipe her tears, which he did gently. "You're crying again."

She laid her head on his chest. "I know," she whispered. They stood like that for a while until Hermione finally looked up at him, more tears in her eyes.

"Draco...I think I'm ready to forgive you, I just...I just need more time to think, okay?"

He stroked her cheek and nodded softly.

She apparated back to her flat, only to have a fitful night of sleep, images of Draco racing through her mind.

oOo