Chapter Playlist:
Hostage : Billie Eilish *the song that inspired me to start this fic*
Whose Side Are You On : Ruelle
Symmetry : SYML
i can't breathe : Bea Miller
Headspace : Thomston
Dead Boys : Sam Fender
There was an eerie calmness in the wake of Bellatrix's absence from the drawing room; combined with the weight of a haunting dread. Everything remained completely still; even the dust floating amongst the vast room seemed aware of the tension, settling into the air pacified, persisting above, refusing to subside.
Narcissa Malfoy stood near the large arching window, her back rigid, shoulders high with her eyes wide and focused. Her gaze settled on the pale skin of the young girl, dripping blood onto her drawing room floor. She didn't have to look across the room to her husband to know his gaze was settled upon the same sight, though the cause of tension in his shoulders had nothing to do with the concern of the dying girl before him and everything to do the ramifications of what her death meant for him and the punishment he'd receive if this was not dealt with properly— but Narcissa Malfoy was not in anyway as easily unaffected.
The beautiful woman swallowed a breath as one escaped the girl lying on the floor. Her eyes immediately glanced to her son, Draco, whose posture remained calm. His eyes remained cold and detached as they often did whilst in their home. She could sense his determination to not convey any reaction to the girl, but the moment the small breath escaped her Narcissa saw her son's jaw clench.
Narcissa noticed her husband attention was elsewhere and he had missed the small proof that she was not dead as they all imagined. She watched Draco's chest rise, his exhale trembly in its release.
The air settling around Narcissa thickened and she felt a tug in her chest, alerting her to pay closer attention to its implications. Her ability to see beyond the present had been innate in her since she was very young. Often times she knew when to do something and when not to, she could feel the importance of a moment, she could see beyond based on some part of her magic that she never fully sought to explore, as it wasn't proper for a pure-blood to find interest in such magic. As a child she often wondered if she were destined to be a seer, but ridiculed relentlessly the one time she mentioned this to her sisters. Narcissa Malfoy kept this secret to herself, but she used her power as a secret manipulative weapon when necessary— and it often did prove necessary in regards to her families position in the Dark Lord's ranks.
It was in the moment she heard the young witches soft escape of breath that she felt her magic tingle the way it often did when she was being prompted to see something beyond what was right in front of her. The feeling was abounding, encompassing her magic until all she saw was the young witches face, then her son's, standing before one another. It was a gleam of an image, soft and alluring with light flowing in and around their two bodies. Her son's hands were grasping the young witches and where the blood once poured out of her it was completely vanished. The worried lines that formed on her son's face were distinctly vanished as well. The surge of energy radiating off of him warmed Narcissa in a way she only remembered feeling when he was a child. His eyes were focused on the girl and it was then that Narcissa realized where the energy was coming from… the girl.
There was a pause in her magic as it slowly faded back to its normal state. She could feel the vacancy of the power cause her breath to catch. She was brought back to the present moment . The shift from the light, alluring atmosphere of her brief sight beyond to the dark, damp drawing room felt like her entire had been shocked back to life.
The drastic change caused her feet to move forward until she was standing next to her son, ignoring the stern look from her husband.
Standing next to him she felt the vast contrast of energy radiating off of him now. A darker energy filled with uncertainty and fear burned behind his gaze, fueled by what she imagined was guilt.
She gently placed her hand on his forearm. Keeping her voice low for only him to hear.
"The labyrinth Draco— think of the maze garden, its vines intertwining, hedges with never-ending turns, the many hidden alcoves— place this moment there and come back to me."
She watched him focus on something beyond this room, his eyes glossing over making it appear as if smoke was swirling behind the silver orbs until the smoke settled and she gripped his fingers with her own once. This was her gift to him. Her way to protect him from all she and her husband had forced him to become.
He tucked it away.
The altered version of her son now remained. Narcissa longed to chip away the dark burdens her son carried. Her magic tingled and it made her wonder if that was why this moment felt so salient. Her eyes drifted to the young witch once more as her magic danced wildly within her chest; the sensation helping her settle the truth of what her vision needed her to see.
Draco took a step, the sound of his light footsteps dying upon the stone walls of the large drawing room, another step and another until the soles of his shoes were planted firmly in the crimson liquid surrounding the girl before him.
"We need to dispose of her— surely she's lost too much blood to survive Bella's blade by now." Lucius said venomously as he nervously wrangled his hands together, pacing the room.
Narcissa glared at her husband from beside Draco. He, too, was an altered version of his former self, though she had long come to accept this ghost-like version of her husband. She refused to accept the same for her son.
"Lucius..." She threatened. Before she could protest more her son gently touched her forearm.
"I'll see to it." Draco's voice was firm, though Narcissa noticed a twitch in his grey eyes as he stared down at the blood surrounding his black shoes.
She heard Lucius protest— "I'll have one of the house elves—"
"I trust you know the importance to not disappoint the Dark Lord again Father!"
Draco's eyes held a fury she had only seen him convey once before, when she had been suffering at the hands of the Dark Lord, in a similar state as the girl laying before them now. "We cannot simply leave such an important task to the adequacy of an elf!"
Narcissa repressed the urge to flinch at her son's tone.
Her eyes filtered across the room to where her husband stopped pacing abruptly, narrowing his eyes at his son. Months of watching him wither away slowly until the man she loved was only ever seen in glimpses. Glimpses— that was all she had of him now.
She would always stay devoted to him, clinging to those glimpses desperately. If Draco held her heart, then Lucius held her mind, body and soul and those were things one would never willing part with— no matter the consequences. It was difficult for her to ever express to her son, but she knew he understood her reasons for not leaving whenever he suggested it after her husband was sentenced to Azkaban.
"I'll see to it myself." Draco said, cutting into her thoughts. "You can rid our drawing room of the mess Aunt Bella left for us— surely you can handle that, can't you Father? "
Lucius swallowed his response as he glared at his son, his jaw firmly set. He nodded approvingly as Draco kneeled down, moving closer to the unconscious girl. Narcissa saw him glance up at his father and when he knew Lucius wasn't't looking, he checked the girl's pulse. The twitch of his shoulders betrayed him in that moment, as she noticed him release a breath of relief.
Draco glanced up at her to see her watching him, she held his gaze for a moment before speaking.
As she considered reminding him what consequences he may face if he chose to save her, she felt her magic pulse through her veins and stayed silent. She heard a distant voice telling her that this was not her decision to make.
She lifted her chin slightly, "I'll be sure to inform the Bellatrix that the Mudblood is dead."
Her son stood to his full height, levitating the girls body.
"Very well." He mumbled and nodded once, passing her.
She turned a second later to see him disappear completely, a glimpse of panic laced on his features.
Narcissa felt a pang of uncertainty in that moment, for she feared the choice her son just made would unknowingly be the cause of his undoing. She lifted her wand slowly, vanishing the evidence of the young witch ever being in her home—
Until next time... Miss Granger.
Draco shifted through the maze gardens outside his bedroom window, several vines reaching for him. He shoved his way through the leaden vines he put in place to keep others out and at his command, they slithered away and retreated upward into the hedges above. One turn to the left— three to the right— another stop he pushed into the hidden alcove and remained long enough to create the memory. Images of the maze garden, vines intertwining, tall hedges with their never-ending turns, this hidden alcove... creating a fortress within his mind keeping the truth of her there.
With a jolt, Draco opened his eyes and they fell upon the frail body laying in the hidden compartment within his bedroom, already protected by the necessary wards to prevent anyone from finding it.
He closed the small door and with a wave of his wand the small room disappeared. The Dark Lord would be returning any moment and he didn't have time to appropriately ward off his own room. He needed to be ready. He needed his mind to be ready. He quickly scorgified his clothes and called for his house elf, instructing her to ensure Granger kept breathing.
Without another thought he made his way out of his room to wait for the Dark Lord to return.
"Draco, darling..."
His mother eyed him once, the emotion in her face quickly hardened as his father stepped pass her. He moved into the drawing room to find any trace of Potter, Weasley or Granger gone, as if nothing ever happened in this room besides afternoon tea.
Lucius stepped towards his son with an anxiousness that repulsed Draco. His father looked so timid now, feeble even.
"Is it done?"
Draco considered his options one last time. He caught his mothers knowing eyes and hurried to glance away. He didn't even flinch as he lied through his teeth and somehow, even in that moment he knew he was sealing his fate with the four words he spoke next.
"It's handled. She's dead."
It would have been difficult for Draco to simply dispose of Hermione Granger for more reasons he would ever willingly admit, but the most prominent of them being that— strategically speaking— keeping her alive was the most advantageous; hindering, of course, on whether or not Potter didn't go and get himself killed before he got around to defeating Voldemort himself. This was a rather large 'if', but the only outcome that would free him of his servitude to the Dark Lord.
He ignored the other reasons attempting to cloud his mind; reasons like— he didn't actually want her dead and watching her get tortured was traumatizing enough—
No. His reasons for saving her was simple: Potter needed Granger, therefore, Draco concluded he was obligated to keep her alive. Or at least, that was the easiest for him to accept in that moment.
The memory of Albus Dumbledore's voice offering him a way out replayed in his mind attempting to slither from the hidden alcove on one of the many vines he intricately tucked away. He shut his eyes and focused his breathing. He couldn't be caught with his mind so easily accessible, especially now.
His thoughts shifted to the room he left Granger in moments ago, hoping to distract himself. The small room, the size of his closet at Hogwarts, was filled with books, journals and random things Draco had found interesting during his childhood, but was never allowed to openly enjoy.
Probably not best to think about any of that right now either.
He grimaced shoving the room deeper as he continued to determinedly stride down the halls of his home.
Each step echoed around him and he turned his thoughts once again, focusing on his minds labyrinth instead.
He thought back to the first time he was able to successfully conceal his thoughts. The skill came easy to him, as if his mind was destined to hide secrets and keep his true intentions for only his to dwell on. His mother had begun teaching him at a very young age, as a response to the company her husband kept, hoping her son could have secrets of his own, or perhaps she had foreseen this, Draco thought dryly— Oh in case you ever need to hide one of your classmates in your room and lie about her death, here's a way to hide your thoughts from the Dark Lord—
He frowned to himself and shook his head.
To his left was a large window and he felt his feet stop and turn without thinking. The rain was pouring into the glass before him, fogging his view to his mothers hedged gardens, forcing his thoughts in another direction.
He shut his eyes and allowed the memory to play out, enjoying the distraction.
The image of him as a young child bending over one of the many journals he used to draw in during his first lessons with his mother flooded into the forefront of his mind. The memory calmed him as he remembered his mother standing next to him, peering over his shoulder with a smile on her face. She watched his hands float across the parchment and continuously reminded him how talented she thought he was.
As a child Draco found a sense of peace drawing. He would spend hours with his mother sitting in her gardens drawing as she tended to the plants and flowers. It was their time to spend away from the dark halls of their Manor and away from his father who scolded him whenever he saw him drawing, or doing anything besides what he deemed appropriate for a young pureblood man.
In the memory, both he and his mother were smiling. It was bright outside as they sat in the sunroom with the French doors open to reveal the tall hedges that connected to the maze garden. He remembered his mothers voice as she revealed to him a new form of Occlumency, that very few were capable to master. The very form of Occlumency that he now relied on to keep him alive.
'Draco, I want you to draw something for me.'
His younger self looked up at his mother, noting the seriousness in her tone. She took a step away from him and stood in front of the window, her eyes scanned the gardens for a moment before she spoke again. When she turned to face him again her eyes were focused.
'Draco, I want you to think of a place that makes you feel safe. I want you to draw it and then we're going to practice placing your thoughts there. It will need to be a place you know well— and rather spacious. Can you do that for me? Can you think of a place you feel safe?
His younger self seemed to struggle to think of a place he considered safe, even as a child his home was unpleasant. A moment later his small hand began to move across the page and his mother walked around the room. Several minutes passed before he was done. His younger self finally stopped and placed the charcoal down on the desk. His mother began to walk towards him.
'You've thought of someplace safe?'
His younger self nodded and lifted the parchment. His mother froze before taking another step closer, allowing a sharp breath of inhale between her lips. She lifted her hand quickly to rid the tear from rolling down her cheek.
'Very good Draco— Well done.'
His younger self didn't understand why his drawing upset his mother, but he understood now…
He opened his eyes as the buzzing of someone arriving at the Manor tingled across his skin, taring him away from the memory of his younger. The feeling lingered for several moments, letting him know there was more than one person arriving.
He took one last glance out the rain splattered window. The hedges seemed darker now, filled with more secrets than just his own.
And now is the time to put those years of Occlumency lessons to use...
Theodore Nott had never seen his best friend in any sort of state other than discomfort or indifference whilst sitting amongst his fellow Death Eaters, but as he observed him now he sensed something was different. Where Draco usually sat with his eyes drawn down with his shoulders firmly set, he now appeared the exact same with an additional bounce to his leg that only Theo would know to pay any attention to.
Unlike Draco, Theo was hardly worthy enough to sit at the table with the other Death Eaters. Instead he stood off to the side of the large table, next to his father though slightly skewed as to not to catch the attention of the Dark Lord when he entered. He preferred to remain irrelevant and invisible as possible.
Draco caught his eye and gave him the signal that he needed to speak with him after the meeting and to bring Blaise— the signal involved a sly motion of placing his hands discreetly on the table before him and switching his silver crest ring from his right index finger to his left.
Prior to the meeting Draco had been forced to meet with the Dark Lord alone, which had only happened one other time in his life, ending with his mother being tortured in front of him as he vowed to make up for his fathers mistakes by taking his place in his ranks; committing to training and joining the other Death Eaters on various missions to further the Dark Lord's exploits.
Unfortunately, after months of enduring such commands and adequately succeeding, he quickly gained favor in the Dark Lords circle. He played his part well enough, and soon Voldemort considered him worthy of remaining at the table and even sought his opinions on strategy, mostly concerning Potter and Company.
Needless to say, Draco hated every moment of it — especially when he sought him out to speak alone as he did before this meeting.
Draco waited in his fathers old study, which the Dark Lord claimed as his own without any concern for objections, which no one dared to make. His father never entered this room anymore, even though the Dark Lord rarely lingered in the Manor longer than necessary.
Draco noticed how the room felt darker somehow than when his father occupied its space. As a child he was never permitted to enter, so naturally he snuck in whenever he got the chance, but now... the room seemed tainted with the Dark Lord's presence and the desire to sneak into the dreary space completely gone.
The sound of a snake slithering past him caused him to adjust his posture as he waited for the ghost of a man who was predicted to follow.
If someone were in his father's old office observing the interaction, they would assume that Draco was unbothered, composed even.
He had one hand placed on the other in front of him. He bowed slightly as the Dark Lord took his place behind the grand black-oak desk, the majestic engraving detail of emerald laced within its features cast a slight sparkle of light, which Draco had once thought was mesmerizing but now, with Voldemort behind it, it reminded him more of the final tingling sparks of the killing curse dissolving into the last breath of its victim.
"Draco."
Voldemort was now seated and lifting his hand motioning for Draco to do the same.
"Bellatrix has informed me of the events from last night. As you can imagine I already expressed to her my... disssapointment. She will not be joining us for our meeting tonight." He lifted his chin slightly, and paused almost as if to ask permission, "I'd like to see it from your perspective..."
Draco knew what would come next. He didn't fight it— instead he welcomed the painful discomfort as the pressure of the Dark Lords magic penetrated through the air and entered his mind.
His magic instinctively became aware of the intruder, causing vines to violently shift, tall green hedges to shake and bend to his will until the version of the night he intended to be seen was pulled from its depths.
Draco, unknowingly to the Dark Lord, curved the vines and placed the false memory strategically deep enough for the Dark Lord to believe he wasn't hiding it, but also that he hadn't intended it to be found. The vines grew and stretched themselves out towards the other presence shifting in his mind, replaying the scene.
The feeling of another presence was sharp and forceful, but nothing Draco was not prepared for.
That moment, Draco allowed himself to internally admit after his one on one with the Dark Lord, was the moment he knew there was absolutely no going back.
Hermione Granger was now his secret to keep, his secret to protect... and he wondered what possibly made him think she was worth the trouble?