Chapter III – Pursued & Protected
Draco glared sulkily into his firewhisky, though his father paid him no mind, as per usual. He glanced out the window of his father's study and scowled, a group of new recruits were tormenting some of the prisoners again. He saw the familiar blonde head of Elijah Yaxley and his scowl deepened recalling how he had kicked over Granger's bucket. It had been a petty move on his part; she looked pathetic enough as it was with her hands clumsily bandaged.
Weeks had passed but Draco was still annoyed by the boy's behaviour, and could not quite figure out why it had irked him so relentlessly. Draco recalled some of his own actions from his youth, his past treatment of Granger could easily be called into question, but things had been different then...
Draco could not help but feel a small twinge of guilt over the damage done to her hands, even though they appeared to have healed. At least she was no longer wearing those dreadful bandages that made her such a conspicuous target.
"I think we need to do something about the new recruits," Draco said to his father, "they are distracting the prisoners from their work." Lucius barely looked up from the map, except to check something in a book nearby, before waving his wand over the map. Draco watched as several new dwellings appeared on the map that had not been there a moment before.
"Elijah Yaxley is taking liberties," Draco pressed. The boy was barely out of Hogwarts, and strutting around the Manor as if he owned it. Lucius let out an angry hiss through his teeth, as the dwellings disappeared from the map again.
"His father is the Head of Magical Law Enforcement," Lucius snapped at last. "A post he has held for more than four years now. He is a respected member of our community. We cannot very well reprimand his son for tormenting Mudbloods and traitors."
Draco realized his mistake instantly. His father would see no reason when it came to the Yaxleys. After the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries they had lost all standing amongst the Dark Lord's followers, and in that time Yaxley had risen quickly to a place in Voldemort's inner circle and had taken the role at the Ministry that Lucius had secretly desired.
The Malfoys had risen again though, thanks to his father's role in the capture of Potter, and Draco had hoped that would be enough. But since Voldemort refused to grant him any role in the Ministry, Lucius was sure they were still being punished for their failures. Draco's own role at the Ministry had done little to appease Lucius, if anything it only added a new level of strain to their relationship.
"The prisoners are to be moved to the Dark Lord's headquarters, as soon as you find a suitable location," Draco reminded him, nodding his head towards the map. "If they are not performing up to his standards we will be the ones blamed, not Yaxley."
"Are you offering to take a more active role in disciplining our prisoners?" Lucius asked Draco sneering. Draco grit his teeth, his father's continued disappointment in his lack of enthusiasm for torturing muggles was another sore spot.
"I just wanted to remind you that you own this Manor, not Corban or Elijah Yaxley or any of the others," Draco bit out. "It appears you had forgotten." Lucius' hand flinched towards his wand.
"We are at a precarious time, Draco," Lucius said quietly. "We've risen back into an esteemed position, and despite Yaxley's...success, he has not claimed Severus' spot as the Dark Lord's right hand. It is our time, Draco. I will hear no more petty grievances from you. Yaxley's son may do as he pleases, but you are my son and heir and I expect you to act as such."
"And what a legacy we're leaving, cowing before anyone who happens to be favoured above us," Draco snapped, scowling he gulped down his firewhisky and stormed out of the office. Until Lucius was considered the Dark Lord's most trusted servant, there would be no pleasing him. Draco dared not point out that he did not want to be a servant to any man.
Hermione quickened her pace trying to escape before Avery could catch up to her. She was one turn away from the servants' quarters when she felt the tripping jinx hit her. She hit the ground with a thump, and as she rose to her feet she could hear his footsteps behind her. Her hands stung where she had flung them out to break her fall, she grimaced, they had barely healed from her encounter with Bellatrix.
"Mudblood," he growled, while stashing his wand back in his robes. "I request your services this evening, I have a task you will complete." His smile was vicious and bile rose in Hermione's throat as she thought frantically.
"Actually my services are unavailable this evening, I'm working on an urgent assignment from Malfoy," she managed to lie breathlessly. She tried in vain to control her breathing or the pounding of her heart.
"I'm not asking," he replied, drawing his wand once again, "that was an order." He prodded her in the back with his wand and Hermione moved forward quickly to avoid the sparks it emitted. He continued to herd her towards the area of the manor reserved for Death Eaters.
Hermione stumbled forward, struggling to find a way to escape as the passage clicked shut behind them. "As if Malfoy needed more servants," Avery mumbled to himself. "He failed in the Department of Mysteries too, but everyone seems to forget that..." He continued down that path, shoving Hermione forward.
"But he'll see... the Dark Lord will see..." Avery muttered again. "It was your fault," he spat at Hermione, "You, and that blonde Lovegood girl, and the rest of them. If it hadn't been for all of you I would have delivered the prophecy and the Dark Lord would have rewarded me above all others."
Hermione kept moved, darting the more frequent stream of sparks emitting from Avery's wand. Her sharp mind struggled to process Avery's words. He could not seriously be holding a grudge from their exchange at the Department of Mysteries. It had been years ago. But Hermione recognized that Avery did not seem to be all there mentally. His eyes had a nervous tendency to dart to one side, and she noticed that his non-wand hand twitched.
He grabbed her arm and turned them abruptly into a room off the hallway. Hermione's quick glance told her it was an unused sitting room, before Avery's face loomed closer blocking her view. He stalked her like a panther eyeing its prey, and Hermione backed into the wall behind her. His fist slammed into the wall next to her, emitting more sparks from his wand and trapping her in place. Hermione wanted to scream or fight or run. Anything, but wait there helplessly. But she knew no one here would help her or care.
His hand clasped more tightly around her upper arm and somehow Hermione sensed the danger. All at once it became too much for her to handle and she clenched her fist before punching him in the jaw.
"You filthy -" Avery cursed, grabbing his jaw with the hand that was not holding her in place. He gripped her arm tighter and yanked her away from the wall. Hermione drew her now throbbing fist and struck again. Avery expected it this time and turned his head away, so instead her hand collided with his Adam's apple. He choked and slammed her back against the wall. Her head hit the stone with a crack, and a sharp pain pierced her head. Black dots spotted her vision, but Hermione ignored them and kicked out at his shin.
"Let go of me!" She yelled as he howled in pain. Hermione fought back, not caring about the consequences, just knowing she had to get away.
She darted away from him as he fumbled with his wand, but he dropped it in the struggle. Hermione scrambled in an attempt to beat him to it. If she got that wand she was free. She far out skilled Avery, she only needed to reach the wand first. For a moment elation filled her, as her had wrapped around the sleek wood, but Avery stomped on her hand, hard enough that she released the wand. In that single moment, he managed to kick the wand out of her reach.
Hermione cried out in pain, she had heard a sickening crack when his foot connected with his fingers, but she did not stop her pursuit of the wand. He pushed at her again, and Hermione managed to roll onto her feet just as he grabbed the wand. Avery stepped back sneering in victory.
"That was a very, very stupid thing to do," he panted. Avery pointed the wand at her and, not for the first time, Hermione prepared for the end. At least she would die fighting.
The door swung open at that moment, putting an end to Hermione's dilemma. A tall blonde man entered the room with such presence that, if his hair had been longer, Hermione would have sworn it was Lucius and not Draco that stood before her. As he beheld the scene, his cast a glance at Hermione, and she saw no remnants of the boy she punched in her third year.
"Draco," Avery said, barely able to hide the rage from his voice, "this better be important."
"Not at all," Draco responded casually. "I was trying to read, but you were causing such a racket. I expected to find you threatened by something much more ominous than an unarmed girl. Clearly you are losing your touch."
"Or maybe," Avery responded with a smirk, "you cannot handle the mature aspects of being a Death Eater." Draco's eyes narrowed.
"I have no reason or desire to prove myself to you Avery," Draco replied. "But you are a guest in my house and while here you will not distract Granger or any of the other servants from their work."
"Ah of course, she was on an assignment for you. You really are your father's lapdog aren't you?" Avery retorted, Draco remained unmoved by his taunts, but Hermione caught the lightening fast glance he shot her. "And if I do distract the prisoners, what are you going to do about it?" Avery added.
"Then you will find out why the Dark Lord did not allow us to leave even the servants in our dungeons," Draco said. "Now, I believe Granger should be back in the servants' quarters." He looked pointedly at her, and Hermione almost ran out of the room before him, leaving Avery seething in their wake.
Draco was furious as he led Granger away from Avery. He looked back at her over his shoulder and saw that she was trembling and cradling her injured hand. He was planning to take her directly back to the servants' quarters, but he could already envision the commotion it would cause with the other servants.
Convincing himself that he was avoiding the inevitable hysterics of the other prisoners, Draco caught hold of her arm and changed directions. They walked in silence. Draco was unnerved. Granger always had something to say.
Draco opened the door to his bedroom and felt her stop abruptly in the doorway, pulling her arm out from his light grip a look of genuine surprise on her face. He paused for a moment. He could not have imagined a world that included Granger in his bedroom either. Draco would never see Granger in that light, well not anymore, but the musings of a fourteen year old boy hardly counted...
"Are you coming?" Draco asked. He tried to ignore his face flushing at the ridiculous memory, "unless you'd prefer everyone to see you in this condition?" He finally managed, with a passable sneer. Thankfully she followed him silently into the room.
Pulling himself together, he put on the cool mask of indifference he had perfected in his service to the Dark Lord. He pulled out his wand and put out his hand expectantly. Granger glanced at him warily, cradling her injured hand. This close to her, Draco could see the faint discolouration on her hands where the burns from his aunt's punishment had left their mark.
"Let me," he said quietly, reaching out again. She hesitated a moment more before placing her injured hand in his. He felt her flinch at the contact before the warmth of her skin could penetrate. Her skin had split across her knuckles, and fresh blood continued to spill from the wound. He raised his wand, silently mending the broken bones and stitching up the split skin, painfully aware of how petite her hand was compared to his own. He glanced up, meeting her inquiring eyes just for a moment, before he unceremoniously dropped her hand.
"Wait here for a bit, Avery should be leaving soon." Draco ordered. He left the room without a word, only hesitating for a moment before leaving the door unlocked. It would be better for them both if she left, Draco knew, but the knowledge did not stop him as he journeyed through the manor to his mother's potion supply. Thankfully the room was dark and uninhabited when he crept in, a thief in his own home.
He opened her store cupboard and rummaged through the ingredients until he found the dittany. He did not want the scars on her hands to be evidence for either of them. He clenched his hand tightly around the bottle, recalling the scene. Draco was well aware that Avery had been losing his grip on reality since his fall from the Dark Lord's good graces. Draco remembered only too well a raid a few months ago when he had set a village on fire, almost trapping them all in the flames.
He had gotten to a few of the prisoners as well, according to the gossip. Knowing his latest victim was Granger made it worse somehow, a witch of her skill being abused by the likes of Avery...
Draco closed the door more forcefully than he intended, making the contents rattle. Draco jumped when he turned, raising his wand instinctively. His heart pounded viciously against his chest. His mother raised her eyebrow.
"Mother," he gasped out, trying to slow his breath. "I didn't hear you come in."
"It's rather late to start a potion," she quipped, then looked at him with concern. "I have some dreamless sleep potion ready if you need it."
"No, I'm sleeping fine," he said somewhat abruptly. His mother had a newfound obsession with his sleep cycle. With the things he had seen and done, was it any wonder he had trouble sleeping? She caught his arm as he tried to move past her.
"Dittany?" She asked, looking at him in alarm. "Draco, did something happen that I need to be aware of?"
"No," Draco answered grudgingly, knowing that his mother would not let him leave without a sufficient explanation. The thought of Granger waiting in his room spurred his response. "Avery attacked one of the prisoners, her hand is injured. I've mended the bones, but this will help speed the healing process... so she can return to her duties." Draco finished, somewhat unconvincingly.
"Which girl was it?" Narcissa asked him. Draco sighed. She always made things so much more complicated than they needed to be.
"Granger," he replied.
"Hmm," she replied, her eyebrows raising in surprise. Draco felt his neck heat in anger and embarrassment. "Be careful, Draco," she said, releasing his arm.
He left the room without another word. His mother was ridiculous. Granger was not a Pureblood and beyond that she was Potter's. That made any association with her dangerous. Plus he had Pansy to think of.
The problem was that Granger was a household name in his family, up there with Potter, as his mother was well aware. His father usually just referred to her as 'that Mudblood girl' as if she was the only one of her kind. The fact that she constantly topped him in all of their classes had been discussed at length. Quite frankly, his own good grades were in large part from his desire to compete with her, with the hope that just once he could tell his father he had beaten her in some exam or other. A fool's errand now, he knew. Nevertheless he had spent a great deal of time hearing and thinking about her, more than he would ever care to admit to.
He was sincerely hoping that the girl in question had come to her senses and left his room while he was gone. He had been away longer than he intended, leaving her unsupervised in his room. A foolish lapse in judgement, he took a quick inventory of the items in his room, nothing there would aid her in an escape if she had that in mind.
He had convinced himself that she had surely returned to the servants' quarters and was almost surprised to find her still there when he entered. Curious as ever, she was examining a frame his mother had set up for him with multiple pictures from his childhood. She seemed particularly drawn to one of him playing quidditch and was watching him fly in and out of view. He remembered quickly that she was probably still intrigued by the movement in wizard photos, because she had grown up without them. He had only seen Muggle portraits a handful of times, but he found their stillness unnerving.
He cleared his throat and she spun around. Her puffy eyes betrayed her, but Draco ignored the signs of her tears.
"Here," Draco said gruffly brandishing the Dittany at her. Draco wanted to inspect his handiwork, but held back. He had become a quite competent healer in his years of service to the Dark Lord. After his sloppy spell work to mend his first injury he had a new appreciation for Madame Pomfrey. He dropped the dittany into her hand, careful to avoid touching her again.
"Thank you," her voice was clear and quiet, and unable to resist, he glanced up into her waiting gaze. He saw gratitude there and was amazed at how their lives had changed so drastically since they had known each other in school. His door clicked shut behind her as he locked his room for the night. He leant against the door, running his fingers through his hair and pressing his palms against his eyes. Never in his wildest dreams could he have predicted the way his life would be turned upside down.
As he fell into bed his mind conjured the image of her hand in his, just for a moment. Draco forcefully shut down his own thoughts, years of Occlumency had trained him to clear his mind, but perhaps he should have taken some of his mother's dreamless sleep potion after all.
Coming Up in Waiting in the Shadows:
"Why did you do it?" Hermione asked the question that been plaguing her. "Why did you risk your neck for me?"